


The Box

by OneConfusedAngel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Dark fic, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Infant Death, Infanticide, M/M, Omega Verse, POV Castiel, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:11:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 40,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneConfusedAngel/pseuds/OneConfusedAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winchesters send a package to the Miltons, the contents  of which put the two nations at war resulting in the Winchester Alpha, Dean, kidnapping the Milton Omega Prince, Castiel.  Castiel begins to learn about his captors, and as he does he discovers the horrifying truth behind the box that sheds new light on the volatile Alpha and Castiel's own family.  With the truth revealed Castiel and Dean grow closer and begin to bond, but their two nations are still at war, and Castiel, no matter how he feels for Dean, is still a prisoner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Box

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of love to Livixbobbiex for being my beta.

In a hundred years people will ask, “What started the war?”  They always ask once a couple of generations have passed and the people that were there to witness are long buried.  The Milton histories will say that the Winchester Alpha slaughtered the Milton Princess when, after their arranged marriage came to fruition, she discovered the true animalistic nature of the Winchesters, and refused to be debased by their ways. 

But histories are funny things, each side having a different perspective, painting themselves, always, as the victim or the righteous aggressors.  In the end it is the victors that will be remembered, their stories passed down for generation upon generation, being altered and changed to suit whatever the modern morality dictates. 

When this is found hundreds of years from now it is my only desire that the truth is told as I know it, having lived both histories in their entirety.

The first thing to understand is that for Winchester, the war started with a woman’s weakness.  It started with an angry and broken Alpha.  It started with a spiteful act of retribution. But for Milton, for _us,_ the war started with a box.

***

It was winter. No matter that every room in the castle had its own blazing fire or that I had many layers to keep my slight frame warm, it was cold, bitter and lonely.  I was seldom allowed outside during the summer months, and never during the winter months, instead relegated to my studies.  The tedious repetition of embroidery, singing, music – to this day I still hate the lute. 

My brother, Michael, the King, believed that the winter months were the perfect opportunity for me to polish my refined behavior while uncomfortable.  When I was betrothed and wed it would be important that I always remain as an example of Milton superiority, even if I was an omega.  _Especially_ because I was an omega.

On this day, however, I gave myself permission to behave every inch of my fourteen years.  Rebecca had just informed me that a crate had arrived from the Winchester Alphadom.  At the time I thought it was a strange term.  Winchester still embraced many of the old ways, including reverence of wolves, to the point of taking the pack monikers and establishing their Kingdom to reflect the same. But I am ahead of myself.

I was sitting straight backed, stitching a delicate pattern for my sister’s birthday in the spring.  The cold had numbed my fingers, each stitch becoming more and more difficult as the needle slipped from my blue tinted appendages making my stitches sloppy and uneven.

 I knew Michael would not be pleased when he examined my work later, he would chastise me for not having better control of my body when an adverse environment bore down on me, so I began pulling my work.  Michael expected me to be dull minded and slow, which often worked in my favor in these situations and I had no compunction about using his misplaced expectations to my advantage. 

It was as I was pulling these stitches that my maid burst through the door of my chambers announcing the package.  Dropping my work, I grabbed my gloves and ran down the corridor, tugging the leather onto my hands as I slid down the waxed hallways to Michael’s solar, where I knew we would meet to examine its contents.  A package from the Winchesters meant gifts from Anna. 

My sister had been wed to the Winchester Alpha, a man named Dean, nearly two years prior.   I had never met him of course. Being an omega I was not allowed to be in the presence of any alpha outside of immediate family.  I was not even allowed to attend the wedding, though I was informed later that several omega’s had accompanied the Winchesters.  Michael found this appalling, while my other brother, Gabriel, found it fascinating. 

I had not seen Anna since the morning of the wedding, so a package, any package from Winchester was a welcome distraction from the doldrums of winter activities.

“Castiel!  Hurry up, little brother!”  Gabriel called to me when I slid around the corner, “we’re waiting on you.”

I was out of breath when Gabriel caught me, laughing and swinging me to a stop.  “It’s a big one!” I gasped out upon seeing the large crate. It came nearly to my shoulders and was as wide as Michael’s throne, at least.

 Michael held a folded letter in his hand, the wax seal embossed with the Winchester crest.  “Read the letter, Michael, please,” I begged.

“Castiel, containe yourself.  You’re acting like a child,” Michael scolded.

“Oh, leave him alone Mikey, he’s just excited.  Like I am.  Anna promised me some samples of Winchesters finest sweets.”

I couldn’t help but grin and bounce, clapping my hands together when Michael relented with a wry smile, breaking the seal on the letter.

The servants had already begun to pry the top of the crate, so when Michaels eyes screwed up in confusion, the lid was already off the box, when they widened in realization the box was already being tipped and salt spilling out across the floor.  His yells to stop coming only a moment too late.

I think now, that it was one of those times when many, many things happen very quickly, far too many to occur between one breath and the next, yet they do.  The salt cascaded out of the box and I stepped back away from the course mineral but peered into the container, first noticing the pink tinged salt that surrounded... our gifts, I assumed.

Michael yelled at Gabriel, “Get him out of here!” My brother wrapped his arms around me, pulling me away, but not before I saw what Michael had seen.  At first it confused me, my mind unable to process the pale limbs, sunken cheeks, wide fogged eyes – it was the hair that told me what I was looking at.  Red hair. Our mother’s hair.  Anna’s hair.   Always a reminder of the mother who sacrificed her life bringing me into the world, the flaming strands had been a source of pride for us all, a piece of the woman we loved, whether Anna and I had been able to know her well or not. 

I could always find Anna when I was small, even in a mass of small children I would bounce on feet, much like I did waiting for Michael to read the letter, leaping to see over their heads until I spotted the vibrant mop that would calm me.  Her hair had been a beacon of safety and love, the promise of a safe haven whenever I should need one.  Now it fell as a standard of a different sort.

I broke from Gabriel’s hold, using force I did not know I was capable of, and that Gabriel certainly did not expect.  I was a boy possessed, calling my sister’s name, sobbing it out in choked howls of denial. I dug into the salt, sweeping pink grains away from the graying features of her face and trying to clutch at her to pull her forth. 

Arms wrapped themselves around me again in an attempt to wretch me from my sister, but I grasped at her wrists, dragging her after me. Behind my cries for her to “Wake up, please, just wake up, Anna, come back to me, Anna,” I could hear Gabriel’s call for me to release her, but I wouldn’t, I couldn’t.  I couldn’t leave her like that, buried in preserving salts like a slab of meat. 

It was Michael’s roar that broke me from my mislaid attempts to rescue my sister, the rumble of his Alpha Voice shocking into me, bringing my body to heel against my will. I went limp in Gabriel’s arms and whimpered as he hefted me up bridal style, carrying me silently to my chambers.

I was left alone in my rooms, horrific images and memories of dead animals in the larder flitted through my mind.  I finally sobbed myself into a restless sleep.

I dreamed of when we were children playing hide-and-go-seek.  I had thought myself sly sneaking into the forbidden larder to hide from my older and much more clever sibling. As I crouched behind a barrel watching the sky darken on the outside of the mesh covered window, I wondered if Anna had forgotten me.  With all the wisdom of my five years, it had not occurred to me to remove myself from my hiding spot and seek her out; instead I buried my head in my arms and cried. 

There was itching on the back of my neck as I wept, so I reached back brushing away the tickle, but the moment I moved my hand, the tickle was back.  I slid away looking behind me.  At first I thought I was looking at the course hairs of an animal’s tale.  I could not, in the dark, discern what it was I was seeing and followed the dark strands upward to peek at what strange animal had such long hairs. 

It hung upside down against the wall, the arms bound up against its body, the ropes winding up, tying the legs and feet together.  I still could not make out what strange beast it was, and so I reached up to swivel it around, the ropes creaking as they stretched and spun.  She was staring down at me with wide, dark, lifeless eyes, not unlike those of small, dead deer, staring into me. Anna’s hair now clearly the vibrant read I remembered broke apart and fell as pink, metallic tasting salt into my eyes and mouth.  I screamed myself awake.

When I was five and had hidden in the larder, the animals tied to the wall had terrified me as night fell.  I had screamed and screamed behind that barrel until my father had found me, lifting me into his arms and holding me close. 

“We were so worried about you, we couldn’t find you anywhere.  You know you’re not allowed in the larder, Castiel, it’s no place for an omega.”  I had buried my tear damped face in his neck and scented him, reveling in the comfort of my alpha. 

My father was dead now, and my brothers were somewhere in the castle plotting their vengeance. There would be no alpha to comfort my screams that night.

***

I had turned fifteen a month after the box.  On May 12th, Anna’s birthday, I found myself sitting on my bed, staring down at the shawl I had painstakingly embroidered for her birthday.  Though she would never receive it, I had been determined to complete it. 

My tears stained the green silk as I trailed my fingers over the raised gold stitching depicting the one and only hunt I had ever been allowed to participate in.  We were all exhausted and cranky after weeks of preparing for Anna’s wedding, and Gabriel, after being yelled at one too many times by a King desperate to make his kingdom look exemplary, and a princess terrified of what her new husband would think of her, put his foot down in an almost alpha like manner and demanded we leave the castle for a day. 

I had ridden with Michael, never having been on a horse before, he held me in front of him, instructing me to hold tight to the pommel as he wrapped one arm around my waist, holding tight to the reigns with his other hand.  

When we gave chase to the stag, it was the most exhilarating experience of my young life.  I closed my eyes, tilted my head back and breathed in all the new scents that I had never known before; the scent of dirt kicked up from hooves, the smell of the horses and the sweat of their exertion. My body hummed with the sensation of the rhythmic trot of Michael’s steed.  He was taking a slower pace than Gabriel and Anna because I was with him, but I still reveled in the breeze his quick pace produced on my face.  I tilted my head back further as though submitting to the wind.  I wished I could submit to the wind.

I had stitched this into her shawl, Michael and I on the chestnut mare behind Anna and Gabriel as they chased the stag through brush and trees.  On one end of the shawl was a likeness of the castle with our crest emblazoned on the drawbridge, at the other end the forest fell away into a clearing where snarling wolves with bloody fangs kept a vicious vigil over the wood.  The wolves had been added last, a reminder of the monsters that took our beloved sister.

Gabriel knocked on the door of my rooms, but did not wait to enter and thus witnessed me wiping away my tears. He sat down next to me, pulling me into an embrace.

“We went to war today, little brother,” he said, placing a hand over mine. 

I didn’t fully understand then, things of that nature were considered far too coarse for my “delicate sensibilities.” Any knowledge I had of war was in the most general of terms.  War was when one king sent his soldiers to fight another king’s soldiers in order to settle a disagreement.  The winner won the argument.  It had been explained to me as it might be explained to a small child.  I laugh at such nonsense now, but I was a child, in every sense of the word, save in my body, which now was ready to be mated.

The shock of Anna’s death coupled with so many alphas prowling our castle in preparation for war had triggered my heat.  I had been secreted away to the heat room, set aside specifically for when I came into my majority.

I hadn’t understood at the time (I think I shall say that a lot in the script).  I had never been told, and thought that I was gravely ill.  I felt hot and itchy, every inch of my body begging to be soothed. My groin ached, my stomach ached and I was seeping from my rectum.  Rebecca had looked at me with narrow eyes and declared, “You’re in heat, come with me.”  Of course I had followed my trusted maid.

Omegas were treated to a special level of comfort, however the luxury I was accustomed to in my daily life paled in comparison to the opulence of the room I found myself in.  I think now that the fine linen and down mattress was to compensate for the humiliation of having my maid take my hardening prick in one hand, and lifting it up as she took a strap of leather and smacked my ball sack with as much force as she could muster.  I fell to the floor crying in pain, pressing my knees together and rocking against the shock to my system. 

Undeterred, she pried my knees apart and began stuffing my now soft bits into the appendages of a steel codpiece, shaped like my genitals in the front, with a small hole for my urine to pass through.  It hinged between my legs, wrapping up over my rear, where small holes, no bigger than my smallest finger, dotted for feces and slick.

Rebecca completed her assault by padlocking this piece at my hips, the key to be given only to Michael.

When she clicked the last lock into place, she muttered something about “filthy heats,” and left me weeping on the floor unable to give myself any relief.

I was terrified as the full heat took my body and I became desperate to touch myself, digging my fingers into the waist of the steel brais-like garment, trying to rip it off.  I clawed at my thighs, attempting to fit my fingers up to finger my hole. 

Rebecca brought me meals, which I did not eat, and water, which I did drink, then used the cup, pounding it against the lock until it broke into pieces.  My fingers began to bleed as I tried over and over to pull the hinges apart. 

It was for the most part of a haze of pain and need, thrusting against anything that might possibly provide the friction I knew instinctually would lessen my suffering.

Finally, finally, I found that if I backed my rear against the leg of the bed and thrust back while smacking at the steel genitals I could get some modicum of relief, though it was combined with agonizing pain as my member swelled in the prick cage, far too small for its aroused state.  The vibration of the metal against my hole was enough, however, and I yelled my pained release, then collapsed, heaving and crying, but finally relieved -- if only for a few moments.

***

Gabriel once told me that had I been born before Anna I would have been promised to Dean.  An omega is always preferred by an alpha over a female.  It’s a matter of dynamics. Any man can produce progeny with a female, but only an alpha can give an omega children. 

Anna was three when she was betrothed to Dean Winchester.  Our two countries had been at peace for many years, in fact my grandfather and Dean Winchesters grandfather had been close friends.  From my understanding our great grandfathers had been cousins, the point being that at one time we were close nations.  The betrothal had been a way to solidify our connection and make our unofficial alliance, official. 

Neither the Winchester Alpha, nor my father had wanted to be the one to suggest amending the betrothal.  If Alpha John had done so, then it would have been an offense to my father, suggesting Anna unworthy of Dean.  Had my father suggested replacing his daughter with his omega son, it would have be implying our alliance was shaky and in need of a stronger binding.

I have thought many times that I would prefer the offenses to weaken a strong alliance, and take my sisters place in that box.   I dreamed many times of it being my black hair in the salt, rather than Anna’s red, though I never saw my own dead face. 

As it was not my body in that box, I had another role to play.  I always knew I was to be used to solidify some treaty or another; it was the way for omega’s, so I was unsurprised when Michael announced, several months after that first strike of war, that I was now promised to the crown prince of Hellios, an alpha by the name of Crowley. Though I had overheard that Michael did not like Crowley, and found him to be a conniving “maggot,” he needed King Lucifer’s allegiance to be able to win the war against the much stronger and battle hardened Winchesters.

There is a lot I was not told.  In all honestly, I was told nothing, save for the name of my betrothed.  I was never as stupid as Michael believed me to be, but there is only so much one can glean when active measures are taken to spare your “simple mind” from the harshness of war. 

The October before my sixteenth birthday, Michael placed me in a carriage with my maid, and sent me on my way to Hellios to wed Prince Crowley. He sent with me a coffer of gold and jewels, one trunk of my own belongings and eight guards.

We would never make it to Hellios.


	2. Kidnapped

Eight! Eight guards.  That is the number that Michael sent to protect me on my journey to Hellios.  Four mounted guards in the front, four in the rear.  Trained knights, experts at the sword and battle ready at a moment’s notice.  They were some of the best knights of the Milton Kingdom, but they were still knights of the Milton Kingdom, and I learned quickly why the Winchesters had a reputation for being fierce and frightening. 

I had been sleeping in the carriage, lulled by the crisp autumn air and passing foliage.  Against Rebecca’s wishes I had pushed open the small windows to allow the air to flow freely through the cabin, and shoved the curtains back to allow the light to shine through. 

She pulled them closed again. “Stop it, Castiel.  The sunlight is not good for your skin.  What will Prince Crowley think seeing an omega tanned brown like a common boy?”

“I assume he would think I did not live in cage.”  I smacked her hand away from the curtain, and ripped then from their rods, bunching the fabric in my hands and throwing it the floor.  Rebecca sighed as though she was heavily put upon.

“Temper tantrums?  Honestly?”

Crossing my arms over my chest, looking away I huffed at her.  I was being petulant and I knew it, but I was angry, mostly at Michael mind you, but as he was not there and so Rebecca took the brunt of my temper, not that I would have ever spoken to Michael in such a manner.

With the war “raging” as Michael had put it, he simply could not travel with me to Hellios, nor could he attend my wedding.  Though he had promised that once the war was won, as it certainly would be with the Hellios army and strategists backing Milton, he would come to visit.  I knew I should have been grateful to him, but all I could muster was anger.  I felt … discarded.  I know I wasn’t though, not at all, that was simply the way it was, and Michael reminded me firmly that my role as an omega was to solidify treaties and alliances, my personal desires did not factor into it.  “It is your duty, Castiel.” 

“But what of your duty as my alpha?” I had shot back, clearly allowing my temper to get the best of me.  He hadn’t replied, not with words anyway, but even as I traveled I could feel the reminder of my place burning on my backside.  Michael did not often find it necessary to correct my behavior, but when he did, I remembered the lesson.

My eyes moved back over to my maid, who was relaxed in her seat.  I immediately felt ashamed for my behavior. Rebecca had been with me since I turned seven years of age and began my formal studies. She had watched out for me and made sure I stayed safe.  She was the one that had endured me and the aftermath of my dreaded heats.

“Heat’s are filthy things, Castiel,” She had said as she took a course sponge between my legs, tisking as she scrubbed at the crusted substances.   “You will suffer threw them for the rest of your life, and when you mate, they will only be worse.  Alphas mount you like animals, stay away from the alphas, Castiel, they’ll be sniffing around you now.  And for God’s sake don’t talk about it. It’s not polite to speak of them, so don’t go sharing with anybody who will listen.  You suffer silently, endure it.  Do not speak of it.”

Her instruction had saved me the embarrassment of flinging myself at Gabriel when he came to check on me after the fact.  I had wanted to scream at him, “Where were you? I was dying, Gabriel.  It hurt so much.  I don’t understand, why did you do this to me?”   But Rebecca had explained that to me as well. 

“Heats are filthy things, Castiel, an omega’s curse.  Your brothers shouldn’t have to be witness to such a vile affliction.” She was right of course, I had endured it, seen what it did to me, how it made me lose control of myself and do unspeakable things to my body. How it made me want to do even worse things to my body. 

Reaching down, I picked up the small curtain then reattached it to the window.  “I’m sorry, Rebecca, I’m punishing you because I’m angry at Michael.” 

She ran her hand through my hair and patted me on the cheek.  “I understand.  This is a big change for you, but you mustn’t allow yourself to behave like a child.”  I looked down at the folded hands in my lap, not wanting to meet her eyes as she chastised my behavior.  I was trying to fight off the tears of shame I felt for my behavior, to no avail.  My maid wiped at them with her thumb.  “I’ll tell you what; let’s open the curtains and the window, hmm.  What King Michael and Prince Crowley don’t know, won’t hurt them.  Just this once.”

A grin broke across my face and I fisted the tears out of my eyes as I nodded.  Once she did a she said, I leaned back, closed my eyes and listened to the sound the carriage wheels made on the well trod road.  Each turn of the wheel thumping out a rhythm in tandem to the click clack of the horses.  I breathed deep; convinced I could smell the changing leaves, imagining that each individual color had a different fragrance.  The red ones smelled of sweet candy, the yellow ones of fruit, the orange ones smelled like spiced cider.  I fell asleep with the scent of autumn in my nose.

It was a dreamless sleep, whether because days on the road had made me weary or because I had not been asleep long enough to dream, I know not, but it was dreamless all the same.  I awoke when our carriage jostled and fell lower at one side, jerking me back into the far corner. 

Rebecca pushed the door open and hollered out, “What goes?”

“A broken wheel, My Lady,” came the response. 

I was out my door and heading for the leaves before Rebecca had a chance to scold me.  I would not allow this opportunity to pass me by.  All of our stops to that point had been carefully planned, with clearings and eight soldiers surrounding us while I walked in tight circles to stretch my legs, or sat, as a perfect omega would sit, nibbling on apple slices and bread.

“Castiel!” She finally called after me.  I pretended I could not hear her and kicked at the blanket of crunching leaves under my feet.  They crunched!  I had not expected that.  At the castle leaves were quickly raked up from the gardens, I had never touched one that had fallen of its own accord, only those still attached to trees and bushes, soft as they were when green. I reached down lifted them into my hands, curling my fingers around and watching as they crumbled. I did this over and over, fascinated by the process.

I lifted the leaves to my face and breathed them in.  They smelled nothing like spiced cider, they were better, earthy and rich. I groaned into the small pile, and prepared to throw myself back and swim through the forest floor.

A roar stopped me.  An _alpha_ roar.  I spun in time to see a man leap from the foliage, his body barreling forward and making contact with a guard, propelling his body off his horse.  Three other men flew forward in a similar manner, claws, swiping and fangs born in snarls.  They made quick work of my brothers well trained guards, slicing them down in rapid succession, using the guard’s confusion and disorientation against them.

Rebecca threw herself in front of me, holding her arms out, trying to block me from their view as best she could.  “You’ll not have him!” She shouted, as one of the alphas approached.  I understood what was happening then, I understood who these men were.  Rebecca had warned me that alphas would come sniffing, it was the reason for the guards, but clearly they had not been sufficient to protect me and now my maid was throwing herself in harm’s way.

Peering under her arm, I spied the creature that would have me.  He was large, huge compared to me, and his features, though I had been certain they were monstrous before, were no more beast than mine.  With broad shoulders and long brown hair, he did look every bit the ruffian, but certainly not an animal. My eyes shifted downward to where his bare feet worked toes into the dirt.

“Run,” Rebecca hissed, and threw herself toward the barefoot giant.  I did not hesitate. I took off, away from the beastly aggressors, and I ran.  My heartbeat whooshed and pounded in my ear, by breath burned in my chest, but I refused to quit.  I did not know where I was going, just that I was escaping. 

The entire future of Milton rested on my shoulders.  Were I to allow this alpha to mount me I would be worthless to Prince Crowley.  No one wanted a soiled omega, whether they were soiled against their will or not.  Keeping Milton in my mind, the treaty I was binding, Michaels punishment were I to allow myself to be soiled, Rebecca’s risk in protecting me.  I thought about how Hellios would help us win the war and avenge Anna.  Anna.  I thought about Anna, and I allowed her memory to fuel me as I ran -- as I escaped.

Only I didn’t.  The barefooted man stepped in front of me, as casually as if he had taken a leisurely stroll to catch up, and I collided with his chest.  He was bigger than I had previously thought, with my head barely cresting his sternum and his chest several inches wider than I on both sides.

I froze, the only movement in my body that of my racing heart.  Closing my eyes, I swallowed and said a silent prayer because I knew, once they were done using me, they would kill me.  I would be salted and cured and preserved for the winter months.  I wondered if they would send my body home, or eat me themselves.  The giant alpha before me rumbled a laugh.

“We’re not going to eat you, Your Highness.”  He lifted one of my arms examining it and my body. “We may feed you, though.  Do they not feed omegas in Milton?”

I was shocked silent, and apparently my captor was done speaking at well, because he hefted me over his shoulder and began walking back in the direction we came until we reached the location of the attack.  Two men, betas if I was not mistaken, were hefting the bodies of my eight guards into a pile on the side of the road.  I heard the third man speaking, but could not see him from my unfortunate perch upon the giant’s shoulders. 

“You have a choice,” the man was saying, his accent heavy, obviously not from anywhere near Milton or Winchester. “You either come as our prisoner, or you join your poorly trained guard.”

The giant lowered me down to the ground, and I found myself facing Rebecca.  I threw my arms around her, relieved that she was alive, though she did not hug me back, her posture stiff. 

“And this must be His Royal Highness, the Omega Prince Castiel Milton.”  Taking a deep breath to brace myself, I turned around slowly.  This alpha was smaller than the giant, shorter at least, but just as broad. Unlike the giant he had a beard covering a surprisingly kind face.  That was the thought that ran through my mind, _He looks kind._   This new alpha ran his eyes over my body, examining me, just as the giant had.  “He’s small,” grabbing my chin he tilted my head around, “and pale. Damn, baby, if this is what their omega’s are like it’s no wonder we’re whoopin’ ‘em.”

Turning his attention to Rebecca, he stared at her for a moment, a look I could only describe as contempt drifted over his otherwise soft features and he snarled at her.  Rebecca lifted her chin and raised a challenging eyebrow at my examiner. In response he barked at her, startling my maid and sending her jumping back with a yelp. 

The two betas laughed at her, though the alphas did not, continuing instead to glare at my maid then shift their eyes to me, back and forth as though considering.

“He’ll ride with you,” the smaller alpha said to the giant, who took me by the arm and pulled me to one of the horses that had been divested of its rider. I turned to Rebecca, but she did not look back, keeping her eyes focused on the alpha with the accent. I wanted to ask after her, but I dared not speak, Rebecca was remaining silent, and I chose to take my queue from her.  She understood the world outside the castle, I did not.  I had never even seen an alpha besides Michael before and had no idea how to interact with one.  

The giant placed his hands around my waist; they were so big they spanned the entire circumference. The shock on my face must have been quite evident because he laughed again, “Are you actually fully grown?”  He lowered his hands from my waist to my hips, and lifted me onto the horse in one swift movement.  He looked up at me, as on the horse I stood nearly a foot taller. “You’re just a child.”

My mouth opened of its own accord, but I forced it shut.  I wanted to argue with him, but I dared not anger the man.

“You disagree?” Against my will I nodded.  I didn’t understand then that I could not deny an alpha.  Well, I could, I just didn’t know it yet, regardless, I couldn’t _then,_ so I nodded in answer. “Why?” He asked.

“I am to be wed.” As if that were a sufficient answer, it was the most polite way I could think to say that I had reached my majority, started my heats.  I needn’t have worried, because he clearly understood my meaning.

He snickered as he pulled himself up behind me, very similar to how Michael had at the hunt. “Having a heat makes you no more full grown, that having a wet dream makes you man.”

I was taken aback at his casual discussion of a heat, as though it was something to be discussed, I looked away from him, ashamed that he was aware of the very existence of my heats, but my shame was quickly put aside as I thought about what he said, and before I could stop myself I spoke.

“What’s a wet dream?”

Clearing his throat, he darted his eyes away as a red flush covered his neck.  He opened and closed his mouth several times before deciding on his words, “If you had one, you’d know.” Even I knew that was a non-answer.  How would I know it was called a wet dream, I hadn’t known what a heat was until eight months before.

The giant nudged the horse and we began moving, turning us we came up on Rebecca and the driver, who was now on his knees begging for his life.  One of the betas grabbed him and began tying his arms behind his back.  I couldn’t hear the exchange between the alpha and my maid, but as we passed the alpha with the strange accent and kind face opened his mouth wide – above where his teeth touched the gums, sharp fangs extended out, not the fangs of a wolf, as I had seen from the men as they attacked the guards, these were ivory daggers crossing over his teeth and – I shrieked as he tore into Rebecca’s throat, ripping at the flesh and holding her aloft as he feasted on her.

After the first squelched of his fangs rending her flesh, it was quick, soundless save for the sound his hums of satisfaction then of her body heaping to the ground.  The alpha’s face was surprisingly absent of blood, though his lips were stained read.  He smiled at me, showing off his bloodied human teeth.  The contrast of his sort appearance and the bloodied proof of his wickedness frightened me more than the entire experience. 

Swallowing down my scream I covered my mouth and looked straight ahead, lest the same happen to me.  Still I found myself crying.  Not the wailing bereavement I had experienced with Anna, fear kept that at bay, but silent tears that I didn’t realize were falling until I tasted the salt in my mouth.  It reminded me of that nightmare. Gagging down my own bile, I reached up and wiped the tears off my face.

“Why would he do that?” My voice came out small and cracked. I hadn’t meant to speak, not really, and wasn’t speaking to the giant, only voicing my confusion.

“She preferred death to captivity. A choice he would have respected had she not betrayed you in the process.”

I felt the need to defend my maid. “I don’t see how she betrayed me.”

“She was your maid?”  I nodded.  “Then her responsibility was to you. She should have chosen captivity for no other reason than to stay with you.”

“What of the driver?”  My concern shifted, the driver was still alive, wasn’t he?

“Someone needs to ensure your brother knows you’re our captive.”

***

The giant did not have the same care for my person that Michael had.  Once we had cleared the forest he took off at a full gallop, running the horse hard.  It became clear to me very soon how well planned this abduction had been.  Every now and then we would stop and be handed a new horse by some beta that looked to be merely meandering along his way.  We rode well into the night, only stopping once to relieve ourselves.  Even water was not a cause to stop, and he only handed me a water bladder from his side, telling me to hold onto it as we rode. With one hand I held tight the pommel as Michael as instructed, and with the other I grasped tightly to the water, afraid he would change his mind and take it from me. 

It was difficult to stay awake, even riding at such a fast pace, but the day had worn on me and as I found the fear subsiding, my exhaustion peaked.  Lulling back, I rested my heads against his massive chest and closed my eyes. 

I did not awaken until we stopped again, and when we did the night was still heavy with darkness.  He swung off of the horse then plucked me down with as much ease as he had lifted me up.  “We are in the Winchester Pack Lands now; we can rest for a while.” He turned away and began removing things from the horse. “If you run I will catch you,” he said, as though the thought had occurred to me.  I was still far too exhausted to think beyond sleep.  “If I have to chase you I will tie you up for the remainder of the trip.”

Turning back he offered me some dried fruit and cheese.  I began devouring them quickly, my stomach rumbling as I did, complaining at the many hours I had gone without food.  As I ate the giant made quick work of building a fire.  I paced a distance from it, not certain if I could sit.  I found myself questioning every action I took, afraid to incite him to violence or worse, to do or say something that could make him mount me.  Rebecca had said that alphas were nearly incapable of controlling themselves around omegas, and that was why Michael was the only alpha I was allowed to associate with until I mated.

If I sat down at the fire, would he see that as an invitation?  What if I lay down?  Maybe if I sat with the knees to my chest, he couldn’t read anything into that, could he?

“Oh for the love of … just sit down and get warm, you’re shivering.”

So I was, I realized, looking at my hands and becoming aware of my chattering teeth. I sat down opposite the alpha.

“I’m Sam,” He said.  “Do you understand what’s happening?”

“Yes.”

“Explain it to me.”

He was as bad as Michael, assuming I was stupid.  I may not have known the specifics, but I understood what was happening well enough, thank you very much.

“You have kidnapped me.  You will mount me and then kill me.  You will either eat me, or send my body back to Milton. Then my brother will kill you.”

His eyes widened with each sentence I spoke, shock clear on his face. “What! No. No, no, no, no, no!  There will be no mounting.  And no killing.  No one is killing you!”

“You killed my maid.”

“Your maid rubbed Benny the wrong way. I mean, he would have killed her anyway, but he wouldn’t have eaten her if she hadn’t angered him.”

What do you say to something like that? “I’m sorry my friend ate your surrogate mother,” was not something that had a ready response, so I did what I had been taught to do.  I remained silent and tried not to look at the giant … Sam.

“Get some sleep, Castiel, you need it.”

I obeyed the command, and lay down next to the fire.  Hearing Sam shift around I opened my eyes as he placed a blanket over me.  “Thank you,” I whispered, before sleep took me again.


	3. Castles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not super happy with this chapter, but it is what it is, and hopefully it serves its purpose. 
> 
> Tiny Spoiler in End Notes.

It took us another two days to arrive at Winchester Castle.  It was located the heart of the Pack Lands, and contained a vast library in which Sam claimed to spend the majority of his time.  Sam, I discovered, liked to talk, and I was grateful for that because I was still not comfortable engaging the alpha in conversation, so he took it upon himself to tell me about the home in which he was raised. 

“My father desperately wanted me to be a soldier. Which I am, but more than that I’m a scholar.”  He said this part with pride and I could feel him sit a little taller behind me.  “My brother makes fun of me endlessly for it, but he was the one that encouraged my father to allow me to pursue my education. I’ll show you the library; I think you’ll find that there are copies of some of Milton’s finest literature as well, so you may find something you’d enjoy reading.”

“I can’t read,” I informed him. 

Rather than being embarrassed for suggesting that I may find some comfort in Winchester he was horrified by the fact.  It didn’t escape my attention that the same man who spoke casually of heats and cannibalism found the idea of my illiteracy appalling, but he did and I was prompted to explain myself, because clearly, to spite his assumption of ignorance, he was the one that was ill informed.

He did not find the simple explanation of, “I am an omega,” to be sufficient, and began to speak about teaching me to read and write.

“I won’t be in your Alphadom long enough to learn,” I stated.

“Maybe, maybe not. If King Michael doesn’t negotiate your release before the first freeze then you’ll be here for the winter, at least.”

“What!”  I spun as best I could to look at the man behind me.  “I don’t believe for one moment that Michael won’t negotiate my release as soon as possible, or even why I would be left for months on end, regardless.”

“Winters are brutal in the _Pack Lands_ not _Alphadom_.  After the first freeze it’s nearly impossible to travel in or out. They’re not particularly pleasant in Milton either.  Armies take respite during the winter months to rest and regroup.”

Well, that did make sense.  I had to cede the point; I was not versed in war tactics, or in the harshness of winters, so I just hummed a response.  “Why _Pack Lands_?”

He scented the back of my head, as Michael had; only he breathed my scent long and deep. “We’re wolves. We have Packs.  You’ll find things are quite different here in the Pack Lands. We don’t really have kings and lords and ladies and all that aristocracy that Milton and Hellios have.”

“But isn’t Alpha Dean like a king?”

Sam bellowed a laugh.  “Dean? A king?  I’m sorry; I’m having images of him in purple silk robes, adorned with jewels and a crown.  Thank you.  I will cherish that image for years to come.”

Which begged the question, if Alpha Dean of Winchester was not a king, then what was he?  I understood well enough that titles varied, Czars, Emperors, Kings, in Winchester is was Alpha.  Wasn’t it?  I would have continued my inquiries, but I found myself annoyed at Sam.  The image he had portrayed was that of Michael.  He favored the purple robes, symbols of his station; silk in the warm months, and heavy velvets in the cold, and he did adorn his person with jewels.  Gem encrusted golden rings and pendants.  Though he didn’t wear his crown casually, he did wear it.  I felt Sam was mocking my brother and I was hurt by this.

“Have I offended you?” Sam asked.

I nodded, unable to lie, and how I wanted to lie. How desperately I didn’t want to be seen as weak.  Benny’s words from before had affected me more than I knew and the idea that Sam would see me cry, would know that he had that power over me.  So I returned to my silence, and let the tears slip down my cheek. 

Sam tipped my head with his nose and whined in the back of his throat.  An apology I wasn’t willing to accept.

***

Winchester Castle was not nearly as large as I had expected, it was only a portion of the size of the one I had been raised in, and not nearly as lavish.  When I left Milton and traveled through the gates outward, the road curved around the castle and into the mountain forest that surrounded us.  It wasn’t until we were traveling away that I fully grasped how large Milton Castle was.  What I had seen the day of the hunt, and what I had based the embroidered shawl on, had been only a peek at the magnificence and grandeur.  You may think I’m being melodramatic in my description, I am not, which is why Winchester Castle was such a disappointment. 

Whereas Milton Castle had extended up over ten stories, that I could count as I traveled away, Winchester Castle was only two, three if you counted the towers, and unlike Milton Castle, which was surrounded by a large prosperous town,   as we exited the forest we entered a small village.   I had a not known what to expect but this was not it.

We drew the attention of many people who were milling about doing, what I assumed, were their assigned tasks.  They stopped and stared, watching us pass by then continued on with their chores.  As we arrived at the castle, Sam climbed off the horse, lifted me down, and handed the reigns to a young boy.  He explained to him that the horse was probably exhausted and needed a good rub and rest.  The boy acknowledged this and left with the horse in tow.  I watched him go, even as Sam took my arm and lead me toward the entrance, having never encounters a “stable boy” before -- or been in a stable for that matter, I was fascinated.

I tried to take in as many details as I could, comparing it to what I knew of Milton Castle.  We entered into an antechamber, and on into a Hall.  This too was small.  I had not been in the Great Hall at Milton Castle often, but enough to know it was massive compared to the Winchesters. 

The High Table stood in front of us as we entered, and on either side of the room were two tables that extended down the length of the room.  Silence fell and all eyes turned to us.  At the High Table sat two men and a woman, only one of whom I recognized.

Benny had arrived ahead of us, though I did not know how, as we had run so hard that first day.  The woman drew my attention next, though.  She was beautiful; with golden tresses that curled their way down her back and over a shoulder.  I thought that next to Anna, she was the beautiful woman I had ever seen.  She smiled at me, and tilted her head softly in acknowledgement – a gesture I was seldom afforded.  I liked her instantly.

The second man drew my attention and I knew immediately that this was the Alpha.  He was younger than the Benny, golden and clean shaven. He leaned back in his chair contemplating us as we walked down the quiet hall.  All in all, I thought he looked arrogant.

Perhaps what I most noted was the Alpha’s dress.  Upon seeing him I could understand why Sam laughed at the idea of Dean as a king.  He wore cloths not dissimilar from Sam and Benny, with plain shirt and pants, only the jerkin set the Alpha apart.  And boots, I should amend, as Sam had not, during the entirety of our travels, donned any sort of foot wear.  I snuck a quick peek were Benny sat – yes, he wore boots as well.  I made a mental note to ask Sam about it at some later date.

We stopped several feet from table and Sam tilted his head to the side exposing his neck. His gesture of submission was one I had no desire to duplicate, in fact the idea of following suit made me remarkably uncomfortable.  I wondered briefly if this was because he was not _my_ alpha.  I knew one thing for certain, though, this was the man who murdered Anna, and I vowed silently, as I watched him rise from his seat and come around the table to stand in front of Sam, that I would be the cause of his death, and it would be before I left Winchester.

Alpha Dean ran two fingers over Sam’s exposed neck and then engulfed the giant into a tight embrace.  “I was starting to get worried, Sammy.”  He pulled away, slapping Sam on the shoulder. “Jess had to keep reassuring me you were alive and in one piece.”

Sam rolled his eyes at his Alpha.  “I’m going to go see my mate, now.” 

After Sam had sat down next to the woman – Jess, Dean turned his attention to me. Conversation had started back up again, quiet though, and with curious glances in our direction.

He looked at me as the others had before, moving his eyes over my body, then he stepped forward and extended a hand toward my face.  I took a rough step back compelling him to grab the side of my head and tilt it to the side in a forcefully; he then buried his nose in the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I am not ashamed to say I squeaked. He breathed deep, rubbed his cheek over me, and then stepped away. 

The gesture was remarkably intimate and not something I was familiar with.  I had been scented before, Michael had done it often, Anna and Gabriel less so, and occasionally Rebecca, but their ministrations had not extended beyond a brush of hands or a touch of the nose over my hair.  This was—extreme.

“Are you hungry?” He said.  I nodded, because I was.  He gestured toward the High Table, “Please, have a seat.”

“He can have my seat!” Benny pushed himself out of his chair. “I’m done, not done, but he can sit here, I’ll move. Over there. He can sit here.”

“Really, Benny?”

Benny buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I can’t help it. Just give him the damn seat, Dean.” The hall filled with snickers as Benny moved to the empty chair on the other side of Dean.

Dean sat next to me and instructed me to eat.  I observed how the others ate, and tore a chunk of bread from the loaf in front of me. Dean kept his eyes on me, making me quite uncomfortable.  It was eerie.

“You look like a girl,” Dean said after several moments of silence, then gestured to my attire.  “They dress you like a girl.” There was no question, so I didn’t feel the need to answer, and instead took a bite of an apple, while defiantly glaring at the Alpha. “I mean, I get that omegas aren’t really treated like people in Milton, but I didn’t expect them to dress you up like a doll.”  Refusing to rise to his bait, I continued to eat in an attempt to abide by the philosophy that ‘you do not speak with your mouth full.’

“Benny says you’re only fifteen?”  That was a question, so I nodded.  “Is it common to mate so young in Milton?”

“We don’t _mate._ ” I put as much contempt in the word as I could muster.

“Ahhh.  I remember now. Mating is beneath the Miltons.  You marry people you can’t stand, and keep mistresses and consorts on the side.”

I tilted my head in confusion. “I don’t understand.  I don’t know what any of that means.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his brow, “Gods, he wasn’t kidding, was he?” He sighed and met my eyes.  “You marry people you don’t like and then … you know what, never mind.” He took his goblet in hand and sat back in his seat, looking away from me, now, bouncing his knee rapidly, then shifting back, leaning against the table, “No, you know what? What the hell?  What is it with you guys and selling off your family members?  I mean, I get it on some level, you know, politics and all that, but you’re fifteen! How can you sit there and think that’s ok?”

“I don’t understand why it wouldn’t be?  I don’t understand what you want me to say, Alpha?”

“Tell me why?”

 “I’m an omega. I’ve reached my majority and am ready to bind a treaty with a powerful ally.”

“Yeah?  Huh.  Do you even know what that means?  Tell me what that means?”

“It means … I’m old enough to marry someone and because of that our countries can work together.”

“They sold you, Castiel.  They sold you to Lucifer for the cost of an army.”

“They didn’t sell me, I have a dowry. They sent a dowry.” To be fair I don’t think understood how little I understood.  I was getting flustered, confused and offended.” I’m worth a lot.”

“That’s even worse. That’s even freaking worse. Do you hear yourself? ‘I’m worth a lot.’ You’re actually putting a price on yourself.”

“Do you not do that here?  Do you not provide support for your daughters and omegas?”

“Support? You mean dowries? No, _here,_ without the benefit of the Wolf Moon, it falls to the husband to prove he is worthy of his mate, especially his omega.”

“Like you proved you were worthy of Anna?”  The hall quieted at that statement, and I knew I had made a mistake, but my mouth was empty of food, so words spilled out instead. “I suppose it’s worse to be worth the cost of an army than of an already solid alliance.  But then I suppose were she worth more perhaps you would not have slaughtered her for sport.”  

Dean moved quicker than I expected, grabbing me by my hair and yanking my head my head back then slamming my face down onto the table. “I will spare you because you are ignorant of the truth, and because I swore to keep you safe while in The Pack Lands.  But be warned, _Your Highness_ , her name is one that is not to be uttered in this house, the consequences are dire.”  The worlds were snarled in my ear, his breath hot and saliva damp against my skin.  He shoved himself away from me. “Take him to his room,” he said as I rubbed at my bruised cheek.

***

 

 “I think I’m going to be your – What do you call it, ‘Lady in Waiting’?” The woman that was to lead me to my chambers chatted as we walked.

“That’s for the queen or a princess. I’m just an omega, you would be my maid.”

“I see,” she said opening a door on the second level.  “You’re a prince though? Don’t princes get like, Lords in Waiting, or something?”  I tried to stifle my laugh, but found it difficult.

“Gentleman of the Bedchamber,” I told her, “or a Valet for lower peerage.  But like I said, I’m an omega, prince or not, the title for my personal servant is just ‘maid’.  But you’re not peerage. Are you?”

“Not sure I know what that means, Clarence.”

“Castiel.”

“Whatever.”

“It means you’re a lady or a duchess or the like.  Since you’re not -- you’d be a chamber-maid, just a regular servant.”

“Well that’s not complicated and pompous at all.  Well, here in the Pack Lands, I’m just Meg.” She directed me around the rather small room and informed me that she’d be back later after she received more instruction from the Alpha. “And just so you’re aware, Clarence –“

“Castiel.”

“I’m not anybody’s servant, _Clarence_. Just because Dean’s our alpha doesn’t mean he commands us, it means he leads us.  You might want to learn the difference before you say something that gets you more than a bruise.” With that she pulled the door closed behind her, leaving me alone in my new chambers.  Or I should say room.  It was a room.  One room.  With a bed, a chair, a table and a fireplace.

You have to understand, in Milton Castle my chambers consisted of three rooms; my bedchamber, a dressing room and a setting room in which I pursued all of my studies and ate my meals when kept separate from the family – such as when Michael was entertaining in the Great Hall.   The room that I was given at Winchester Castle was half the size of my bedchamber, with none of the decorations.

In my ignorance I had assumed that I would be afforded the same luxury as I was in Milton, and was honestly offended that I was not.  In my mind I kept repeating the phrase, “How dare he?”

I ran my fingers over the coarse, blue woolen blanket laid over the bed, and then sat down.  I had absolutely no idea what to do, but sit.  That was, perhaps, the worst thing I could have done.

The events of the past few days finally caught up to me. I was a prisoner, I was kidnapped, being held prisoner in a tiny room, in a run-down castle, surrounded by God only knew how many alphas, expected to do God only knew what.  My maid was dead, Michael was losing the war, the alliance with Hellios was never going to be made without a binding – and I had just infuriated the one person who held my life in his hands. 

I had cried several times since the kidnapping, I am an omega, we cry, it’s expected of us, but I had borne my burden with silent tears and swallowed down my fear.  I was the example that Michael had trained me to be.  _“Once you leave these walls, brother, you are a representative of Milton.  How you conduct yourself reflects on us, so conduct yourself accordingly.”_   With little else in my favor, I made the decision to conduct myself fearlessly.  Milton may not have the fiercest warriors, but we Miltons were not to be trifled with.

I only wish I could have convinced myself of that, because I was terrified, and for the first time in life I questioned my future.

When a knock sounded on the door, I wiped away my tears and waited for the person to enter.  They knocked again, and again I waited. 

“Castiel, are you in there?”  I recognized the voice, but couldn’t place it in that moment.

“Yes.”

Silence, then, “Can I come in?”

That was strange. No one had ever asked permission to enter my rooms.  Granted, the only people permitted into that wing of the castle were family, but still, no one ever knocked and waited, and I certainly did not expect it while a prisoner.

“Yes?”

Turning the handle and using his shoulder to push the door open, Benny entered my room.  I was up and across the room, because I was determined to be fearless, so naturally my first instinct upon finding myself alone with this particular alpha was to cower in a corner.  I covered my head with my hands and yelled, “Don’t eat me.”

“Awe,” he crouched down in front of me, pulling my hands from my head. “I ain’t gonna eat ya.”  Taking one of my hands in his own, he led me over to the table and chair.  “I brought you some supper.”  I sat down and looked at the plate full of meat, fruit and bread.  I tucked into the food immediately, finding to my surprise that I was still hungry. Benny watched me devour the food with a strange, almost satisfied look.  “You’re not eating your meat?  It’s boar,I caught it for you. Before you came.”

“I don’t eat meat.” I admit, I perhaps was a bit more harsh with my tone that I needed to be.

“Why on earth not?”

I raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him, because to me, it should have been obvious.  When it became clear it wasn’t my explination was clipped. “Because the last time I had the privilege of observing the preservation of meat, it was in the form of my sister’s mutilated body.”  His eyes widen at the verbal assault. “Coincidentally, I don’t consume salt, either.”

Benny looked away, blowing a breath from puffed cheeks and rubbing his hand over the nape of his neck. “Yeah, fair enough, I guess. Listen, I wanted to apologize.  For your maid and all. I shouldn’t have done that where you could see.  I forgot that you weren’t like the omegas here.  You’ve probably never hunted before.  I mean, nah, never mind.  I just wanted to say I was sorry about doing that in front of you.”

“But not for doing it?”

“No.”

We were silent for a bit as I ate the pear slices on my tray. “Are they all like you?”

“Who?”

“All the Winchesters.”

“Ahh. Um. No.” He sat on the floor, crossing his legs.  “I’m a little different.  In case you can’t tell, I’m not from these parts.”  I nodded, not meeting his eyes.  “They’re wolves; I’m … a little more.  I still run with them, though, during the moons and all, but I ain’t really like ‘em.  Not that way.”

“So, do they—eat people?  Like you did?”

He started picking at his trousers.  “Nah.  They don’t.”  He stood up and took my empty tray, save for the remaining meat, in his hands.  “I’ll send up some water for you, make sure you get enough.”

“Why’d you kill her like that?” Keeping my eyes averted, I asked in almost a whisper. 

“She was responsible for you.  You’re too thin and too pale. You smell wrong, not like an omega should smell.  I took a personal offense to that.”

I wanted to defend Rebecca’s memory, but I couldn’t find the words.  We had been having a civil conversation and I had no desire to aggravate the already tenuous situation.  I think I was perhaps learning my lesson.

“Can I scent you,” he asked. I nodded, as it seemed to be the custom, and Benny buried his nose behind my ear and breathed in and out. “Thank you,” he whispered before leaving the room, tray in hand.

Alone once again, all I could think was how strange that entire encounter had been.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Benny has a crush on Cas!!! He did not ask my permission, but he's damn cute fumbling all over himself to impress the omega.


	4. Ruined

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my beta, Livixbobbiex, who helped turn this raging hot mess of a chapter into a thing of beauty -- or at least a thing of attractiveness.

Meg came by to make sure my fire was stoked and give me an instruction on doing it myself.

“If I don’t stoke Dean’s fire, I’m sure as hell not going to stoke yours.” Now, I may have been naïve, but I wasn’t _that_ naïve. I also, apparently, wasn’t that capable, because halfway through the night, no matter that I kept a constant vigil on my fire, no matter that I spent what felt like hours crouched in front of the hearth blowing and poking the wood with the steal poker,  it died down to embers.

It shouldn’t have been so damn hard! Children could light and tend fires, while every action I took just seemed to smother it. Frustrated and angry with the entire endeavor, I threw the poker on the floor and buried myself beneath the wool blanket and sheets with the hope that I would be able to fend off the cold.

I had expected the cool October air to chill me through in the night. It was a pleasant surprise to find that I was only somewhat chilly when I awoke, as the small room and windows had kept the heat locked in. I could only imagine how warm I would have been had I the knowledge to keep the fire burning.

I rose from the bed and dressed myself, before heading down to the great Hall, where Meg had informed me that _every_ meal was eaten, with only the occasional exception, and I was to go directly there upon rising to speak with Dean. However, when I arrived in the Hall it was empty.

Not knowing what else to do I made my way to the kitchens, thinking to retrieve some small morsel from the fast break I had missed. There were several people milling around, tending to some task or another, though no one spared me more than a cursory glance. I got the attention of a dark haired woman and asked if I might have something. She rolled her eyes at me, as though I were a bother, but proceeded to collect some nuts and bread into a small cloth. She thrust it into my hands and turned away to see to some other task.

Without any other instruction I decided to take advantage of my accidental freedom and explore a bit until someone came for me. I spotted light streaming from down a hall and thought to sit in the courtyard while I ate; a seldom permitted activity in Milton, and one I enjoyed immensely when allowed.  I followed the light out into a freshly harvested garden. I found myself not in a courtyard at all, but instead out in the open staring down at the village, and beyond that the forest.

I was out of the castle, on my own, with no supervision, and it looked as though no one was going to pay me any mind -- so I continued walking. Through the garden and past the well, onto an open path that lead toward the village at one fork and toward a smaller stone structure in the other.

I looked back toward the kitchen door, barely visible from where I stood.  My heart beat a hard tempo as I contemplated my next action.  I could do it, I convinced myself.  I had done it one before.

When I was younger I desperately wanted to know what the fuss was about Court. I begged and pleaded, and finally  Gabriel had brought me an old outfit from his youth and said, as he lead me to the Throne Room, “Don’t speak to anyone, bow, don’t curtsey, and look like you belong.  If you look like you belong there, everyone will assume you do.”

Looking down at my attire, the deep red, linen long overcoat made me stand out.  Whereas others wore tanned leather and undyed wool, I could see where Dean might think I looked female.

Chewing at my lip I looked back toward the forest. I couldn’t believe I was considering trying to escape.  It was crazy.  I set my cloth of food on the ground and slipped my overcoat off, setting it with the food.  My dark blue tunic and hosen were still quite ornate, but after pulling dirt from the ground and dusting it over my clothing, I looked less Milton and more Winchester. 

As I bent to pick up my belongings, the lavish blue brocade on my feet caught my attention.  I ripped them off and tucked them in the waist of my hosen, then finally retrieved my belongings.  It was a conscious choice on my part to sling the overcoat over my arm and turned toward the village.

I tried to emulate Gabriel’s casual nonchalance about the world around him, a personality quirk that often riled Michael, but I found endeared him others – if Gabriel was too believed, at least.

 “Pretend you belong here,” I whispered to myself I walked, tossing nuts into my mouth. If remained collected, I might be able to get away.

I was greeted with smiles and the occasional nod of acknowledgement, but no one spoke to me and no one stopped me.  I returned their gestures in the same fashion.  It was slower progression without the aid of a horse, but I made good time, I thought, attempting as I was to look unbothered. 

It was far more challenging than I had anticipated.  There was so much I wanted to explore and touch.  I wanted to stop where I trod and bury my bare feet in the dirt, and walk through the grass.  I found myself wondering if the blades of grass would tickle my feet – but I kept them on course, keeping the forest in my sight.

 The closer I came the more effort it took for me to keep from running at full speed to the tree line, but I controlled myself, kept my pace steady and did everything in my power to not draw attention to myself.

Before I knew it I was crossing into the shadows of the wood.

“You were just going to walk right on out weren’t you?” I stopped dead in my tracks, looking up toward the voice. I could just make out Sam up in the branches. Well, not so much Sam as his clawed feet digging into the bark. He moved effortlessly from branch to branch, an odd spectacle given his size, until he leaped down onto the earth near me.

Sam chuckled as I sighed my resignation. “I’m impressed; I’ve been watching you since you passed the blacksmith. I really can’t believe you made it this far.”

“I would have made it further were you not hiding in the trees,” I grouched.  If I’m being honest, I was relieved to be caught.  I had no idea what I intended to do once I got to the wood.  I couldn’t even tend a fire, much less build on, that much was painfully obvious to me, so how was I suppose to survive walking what had taken two days to ride on horseback?

“No doubt,” Sam gestured toward the castle, “come on, let’s get you back.”

***

We arrived back at the Castle, entering again through the kitchen amidst considerable upheaval, perhaps not _considerable_ ; the kitchen was very much as I left it, unhindered by the yells of “Where is he,”  being bellowed from…somewhere, it was hard to tell in such a small castle. “He couldn’t have just walked out.”

Sam raised a finger to his lips, silently instructing the kitchen servants – excuse me, the people working in the kitchen, to remain silent. There were snickers all around and Sam gestured for me to sit. I did so and a young blonde woman handed me a couple of rolls and a cup of water. “You’ve got him in knots, you know,” she said to me.

I looked at Sam for direction. He sat down on the table top, grinning widely at the blonde. “Worth it though. How long’s he been ranting.”

She looked at a candle clock in the corner. “Half an hour?”

“Samuel Henry Winchester!” An older woman smacked Sam on the knee with a wooden spoon, making him yelp. “Get your ass off my table. You may have been raised by wolves, but you weren’t raised in a barn.”  Sam slid off the table, rolling his eyes.

She turned her attention to the blonde. “Joanna Beth, go let Dean know his omega’s here.”

After Joanna turned to leave, the woman handed me a chunk of cheese. “Here you go, sweetie.” She ran her hand over my head in a motion that felt suspiciously like I was being petted and turned back to her work.

“That’s Ellen,” Sam said, refilling my cup with cider. “She practically raised Dean and me after our mom died.”

I stopped chewing my food and looked wide eyed at Sam. I genuinely liked him and had a difficult time reconciling that with how I felt about Dean. In my mind, the idea that they could be family was simply not possible.

“What?” He asked, sitting back on the table.

“You’re Dean’s brother?”

“Yeah, you didn’t know that?”

“I suppose between the kidnapping, murder, bruising,” I gestured toward my cheek, “and the failed escape attempt, the familial ties of my captors must have escaped my notice.”

Before Sam could respond Dean came into the kitchen, already yelling, “Where the hell have you been? I told you to meet me in the Hall.”

“I was in the woods and you weren’t in the Hall,” I answered.

“The woods? What the hell were you doing in the woods?”

“Escaping.”

“Escaping! Sam?”

“It’s the truth.” Sam held up both hands in a surrendering motion. “I caught him just as he was passing the forest perimeter.”

Dean rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How did you get all the way to the forest?”

“I walked.” Dean turned an angry face at me while Sam looked away, trying to hide a smirk. I hadn’t thought what I said was funny. Apparently, I was mistaken, and felt the need to elaborate. “I ambled... sauntered.” He continued to glare at me. “Meandered?” Yes, I admit it; I was deliberately being an ass, now.

“Stop laughing, Sam.” The larger man cleared his throat as he tried to school his features. “You,” he pointed at me, “follow me.” Sam waved at me as I fell in step behind Dean.

Passing a basket of fruit, Dean grabbed an apple and handed it to me. “Eat this.” I took a bite, and continued behind him.

He guided me up into one of the towers and out onto the battlements, then took my hand and lead me to a spot directly over the main entrance. The Alpha leaned against the turrets and waited patiently for me to finish eating my apple.

I wasn’t hungry, having consumed more food since I woke that morning than I usually consumed in a typical day.  I bit into the fruit and met Deans eyes, making a deliberate show of chewing and swallowing.  Taking another bit, I used my tongue to lick a drip of juice from my lip.  Dean’s eyes were focused on my apple, and he licked his lips like he was starving. I wondered briefly why he didn’t just get his own apple on the way.

 Looking down at the apple I bit my lip, trying to work up the ability to eat more.  When I looked at Dean again he was still focused on my fruit.  I ran my teeth over my bottom lip and opened my mouth to take another bite, but Dean swiped the fruit from my hand and pitched it over the wall. Returning to his seat he scrubbed his hands over his face, mumbling, “Never gonna look at apples the same way, again.”

He stood up turning away from me.  He shifted his weight back and forth, and from my position it looked like he was adjusting his belt… though he wasn’t wearing one.  A few minutes later he turned back to me,

“Now, how exactly did you make it all the way to the forest?”

I shrugged. “I walked, that’s all. I thought that if I looked like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing, then people would think I was.” I shrugged again. “It worked.”

“No one thought to ask what you were about? No one was suspicious? I mean, look at you.” Dean’s eyes widened, finally taking in my new attire. A smile that tugged at my lips as Dean’s attention was drawn to my wiggling toes.  I could defiantly understand why Sam chose to go barefoot.  I wasn’t certain I would do it all the time, but I had already decided to do it often.

 “Perhaps they thought I was a lady,” I said, mocking Dean’s earlier assessment of my style. The Alpha raised an eyebrow at me, but remained silent on the matter, instead opting make a motion with his arms, encompassing the area surround the castle.

“What do you see, Castiel?”

“I see the village and the forest.” To be specific I saw that the village and the forest only extended around two sides of the castle, the south and the west. I was surprised to notice that the castle was on a hill, such a subtle inclination that I had not noticed as I had climbed it coming or going. “I see a courtyard.” Which was nowhere near the kitchen. “I see farmland, and then miles of nothing.”

Dean came up behind me, leaning in close, “I’m going to teach you a little about the Pack Lands. There are one hundred and seventeen packs in the area called the Pack Lands.

“Each pack has its own Alpha. Each Alpha submits to me and recognizes me as their Alpha, and any territory they claim, is thereby my territory. Separate from that, I have my own pack and territory. In my territory there reside two other packs, the Hendrickson Pack and the Stanford Pack, which was Jess’ pack before she mated with Sam.”

“But Sam’s an Alpha; doesn’t he have his own pack, then? What about Benny?”

“Just because you’re an alpha doesn’t mean you become a Pack Alpha. Sam has no desire to have his own pack and Benny – can’t. So long as you submit to your Pack Alpha there’s seldom a problem.”

I thought those things over carefully. “Why are you telling me this?” I finally asked.

Instead of answering he placed his hands on my arms and ran his nose over my jugular. “Do you know why we scent?”

I thought back to all the times my family had scented me. “Comfort.”

Dean hummed against my neck. “Yes and no, comfort is only a small part of it. It’s also about belonging. Sam smells like me and I smell like him. We belong together. The more the pack scents you, the more you smell like us.

“I’m telling you this so you are aware that no matter where you run, or how far you get, there is no wolf in the Pack Lands that wont smell me on you and know you belong to me. And don’t think you can sneak through without being caught, Cas, there’s not a single Alpha worth his salt that doesn’t know when someone new enters his territory.”

I shivered as he breathed against my neck. “Everything the light touches is mine, Castiel, and right now the light is touching you.” He opened his mouth and pressed his blunt teeth against my skin, even as he wrapped one arm around me, spreading his fingers over my belly.

My heart sped up, my breath came quick, and heat began to flood over me, but the most alarming sensation was the warmth stirring in my groin. I wanted tell him to stop. I wanted to run away, but I wanted to stay and be touched by him more.

Dean tightened his arms on me and pressed his teeth down harder, until I tilted my head to the side allowing him full access to me. _Submitting_. He rumbled his approval and I moaned as the vibration shot through my body and made me hard.

Dean detached from my neck and gave a few cursory licks over the bite, before stepping away, leaving me panting and light headed.

“You’ve gone into heat,” he said bluntly. “Return to your room, I’ll send someone to assist you.” He turned to walk away, but I reached out for him, taking his wrist.

I was harder than I’d ever been, with wet slick collecting in my crack. I didn’t know what was happening to me. Logically, I knew I was going into heat, but beyond that my body was telling me to hold onto Dean because he could fix this thing swelling up inside me. I wanted him to dig deep and fill me up, but I didn’t know how to tell him that. I didn’t know what that entailed. I didn’t understand.

Dean stepped into my space, cupping my jaw, he ran a thumb over the bruise on my cheek. “I shouldn’t have,” he whispered then pressed his lips against mine; working my mouth open with his tongue I allowed the assault, reveling in his scent and taste.

Against my will I found myself pulling out of the kiss and burying my nose in Dean’s neck, _inhaling_. He smelled nothing like I expected. The surface scents were familiar, leather, wool, sweat, but beneath that he smelled of pears and freshly turned earth.

I pressed closer to him; seeking relief as I began to rub myself against his body. “Alpha.”

Dean kissed me again. “Come on, Cas. We gotta get you to your room before we do something we’re going to regret.

***

The moment the door to my room opened I pulled Dean to me, kissing him again.  He moaned into my mouth, grabbed my bottom and lifted me up.  My legs wrapped around the Alpha’s waist and he pressed me to the wall as he rutted against my groin.  Every roll of his hips sent shivers of pleasure through my body and I began rocking down onto him until our rhythm’s synched. 

Every heat after my first had been an exercise in control, sitting stiff limbed on my outlandish mattress trying to avoid any movement that might, not only arouse me further, but cause me to release.  Heats were brutal and painful.  Excruciating torture that I ultimately failed at controlling. 

What Dean was doing to me was the antithesis of everything I had experienced or ever been told. I wasn’t told that I would want the alphas, too. I was told that alphas weren’t strong enough to resist, and that was why I had to been sequestered away. Yet there I was, chasing something I couldn’t even begin to comprehend.

Dean latched his teeth on my neck again and this time I submitted immediately. He growled his acceptance and sank his fangs into my flesh.  As he did, that burning, coiled sensation in the very pit of me released, washing over me with blinding rapture. 

I understood then why I was kept concealed. I understood why Rebecca had warned me about alphas.  We wouldn’t stop.  So long as this heat consumed me, my body would now beg to be satisfied.  I would never again be able to sit stoically by while my body demanded liberation.  I understood, then, what it meant to be _ruined_.

Dean dropped my legs to the floor and began tugging my tunic over my head.  Throwing in aside he fell to his knees, snuffling at the bare flesh of my stomach, he pulled at my hosen as my fingers gripped his hair.  I threw my head back, moaning as he began to pull me loose –

All of a sudden the warmth of Dean’s breath was gone from my body and he was roaring. I jerked forward from the wall to find Dean struggling against an attacker, the larger alpha had his arms wrapped around Dean’s middle, as he dragged him away.  “Are you insane brotha’?”  The other alpha snarled. 

My mind wasn’t clear enough to discern the situation as it was, in the moment the only thing I understood was that one alpha was challenging _My Alpha,_ and my Alpha was losing.  Dean clawed and bent and slashed, growling, “Mine, my omega, mine.”

Reaching out for Dean, I intended to grab him and pull him free, but I missed and tumbled forward.  The other alpha was too big and too fast and had Dean out of the room and the door slammed shut before I could rise to my feet.

I collided with the door just as the sound of a lock clicked into place.  I knew that sound. It was the same innocuous click that signaled my captivity in Milton.  Only this click was intended to keep me away from Dean. 

“Alpha!”  I yelled through the solid barrier. 

“Castiel!” Came the response, distancing itself from me with each syllable.  I pounded on the wood, scratched at it, and threw myself into it.

“Alpha! Alpha!  Please, Dean.”  Collapsing in a heap of sweat, tears and come, I wept into my hands, still calling  to my alpha, until exhaustion coaxed me to sleep.

 


	5. Shame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, guys. Hopefully I'll be uploading at least every week from here on out.  
> Check end notes for a little history lesson that contains a minor spoiler.

I would awake occasionally, hot and hard, satisfy myself and then returning to sleep in the mess of seed and sweat.  More than once I found myself wishing that I had brought my codpiece with me from Milton, but Rebecca had told me that I would no longer have need of it, that if Crowley wished me to have one he would provide it.  

With the way that Dean and I had behaved I could understand the necessity of such a device.  While I wished I had it so that I might refrain from abusing my own flesh, I was also grateful that it was left behind.  This heat was not as painful as the others, though I only had a few to compare it to. Being able to satisfy myself when needs be made the heat fervors less intense and the intervals between longer.  During my heats in Milton I had slept very little, the itch and burn far too severe to allow it, but in Winchester I found that after I had spilled over my hand I would collapse into heavy rest. 

The room was dark and the stone floor cool against my skin when I awoke to knocking on the door.  “Clarence? I need to come in.”

I didn’t answer her, instead trying to pull myself up to my feet, using the door to leverage my weight.  My legs were wobbly beneath me as I stumbled to my bed, pulling a sheet around my body.  It was course against my skin, more so than usual.  Everything was more intense in heat, every sensation elevated with the potential of being erotic.  Once I was wrapped in the sheet, I told Meg to enter and she nudged the door open with her elbow.

 “I swear the two of you! The entire castle smells like alpha spunk. Except this room, this room smells like slick and shame,” she complained as she entered with a large tray in her hands. Rolling my eyes I sat down at my table.

The tray was piled with food and drink which I began devouring immediately, famished from the previous hours of exertion. “What’s that?” I asked through a mouth full of bread as I gestured to a wooden box on the tray.

“That is to help with your heat, and from the smell of it, you need all the help you can get.” She opened the box to reveal three sticks in various sizes, sanded smooth and tapered into blunt rounds at the top, the third had an orb near the base.

“How are these suppose to help with my heat?”

Meg laughed for moment and then her eyes went wide when she realized I genuinely had no idea what I was supposed to do with them.

“They’re dilldoughs.” I shook my head still not understanding. A mischievous smile spread across her face. Leaning against the table she pulled out the largest “dilldough” and pointed the tip at me. “Oh, Clarence, you take this,” she waved it in my face, “and shove it up your ass.”

***

I was not -- prepared for that.  Meg gave me a brief tutorial and left me alone with the devices, assuring me that most omegas, even mated ones, had a set to ease the burden of a heat.  I wasn’t so certain, though I knew that when it hit me the strongest the desire to sink my own fingers inside myself was almost unbearable. 

My mind wondered back to that first heat, and how I had clawed myself bloody trying to reach my hole.  Given the size of the largest “dilldough” I wasn’t sure which the worse option was.

Strength replenished with sustenance, my body finally fell into a full heat and for the first time I was able to touch myself the way I desired. I was still reluctant to use the devices that Meg had left with me, instead burying my fingers in as far as they would go. 

Kneeling on the bed I reached behind me and rocked on my digits, willing them to go deeper and press wider, searching for _something_.  What? I had no idea, I just needed more, needed deeper, harder, wider, faster, and I obeyed my bodies call, even as my stomach twisted in shame at the need and the inability to resist the urges.

Whimpering in frustration my eyes shifted to the box still resting on the table. I wrapped my hand around my hardness, refusing to be lowered to such a debased action as inserting those _things_ inside of me. I came finally, my prick in one hand and my taint around the other, crying when I did, not from the release, but from the lack of satisfaction that came with it.

Desperate, I lunged for the box, telling myself that no one would know, I could use one, wash it off and put it back before Meg returned to check on me.  I could deny the act in the end. 

I positioned myself on the bed again, rocking back and forth, seeking friction that wasn’t there and holding the smallest of the “dilldoughs” in my hand, still trying to resist it, but with it there, so close, so available; I finally positioned it behind me and sank back on the shaft. 

It hurt so much more that I had expected but at the same time its presence had me moaning and rocking, inching myself down further onto the pole until I was seated at the flat circular base.  Wiping the tears from my face I pulled myself up, and slid back down, gasping as it brushed something inside of me. 

I stopped moving, afraid of what I was feeling, convinced that it was wrong; that there had to be something wrong because there was no way it should feel that way.  There was no way that something that gratifying could be right and proper. Soon enough though, I couldn’t fight my bodies need any longer, and I began to move in earnest, crying until I needed more than what the smallest dilldough could provide. I replaced it with the second and repeated the process. 

It took no time at all before that, too no longer satisfied me, but the idea of that third one, so much larger than the others, with that orb –that knot, as Meg called it.  Could it actually fit inside of me? Though my body had accommodated the other two readily enough, the knot was massive in comparison.  Like before it didn’t take long for my desperation to become so great that I didn’t care if it was too big, or even if it ripped me apart.   All I knew at that moment was that I needed it.  Inside my head I kept repeating, “knot me, knot me, knot me,” as though the mantra was intended for some invisible alpha.  I don’t remember reaching for it, I don’t remember sliding it inside, the only thing passing through the haze of boiling ache was the satisfaction of finally being stretched where I needed to be stretched, filled up to the brim and ready to spill.

I could feel my body taking over, tightening, loosening, and undulating.  When my hole pressed against the tapered orb it opened and swallowed the knot in.  I cried out at the sudden pain, sharp and unforgiving, but only for a moment before I closed tight around its base.   I should have died then, I know I should have.  There was no reason for my body to survive the explosion that occurred inside of me.

Throwing myself forward onto the bed, I rolled onto my back arching and twitching and crying, both from fear and pleasure as my body continued the repetition of tightening and loosing on the knot, as though it could milk seed from the wooden phallus.  I came screaming words I can’t remember, but pleading, I know, for my alpha, for my God, for forgiveness, because I knew, without a doubt in my mind I was damned.

When the onslaught finally diminish I reached back to pull the knot free, only to have my body clench it involuntarily, demanding that it remain, my hole fluttered around the base, pushing at it gently to continue the rhythmic throb.  I came again, and then twice more before my body relaxed enough that the knot popped free with little effort. 

Not bothering to clean the devices, I curled on top of the blankets and, just as I had when calling for my alpha to return to me, cried myself to sleep.

***

My heat finally broke before the sun dawned on the fourth day.  I awoke to a dark room, only illuminated by the orange glow of embers in the fireplace.  The sheets were damp from my sweat, and a layer of perspiration still coated my naked body, chilling me to the bone in the cool night air.  Every muscle in my body ached from the exertion of the previous nights, and I struggled to shift my weight around and pull the blanket over me.  Curling into a tight ball and cocooning myself under the covers. Allowing the heat of my breath to warm my body in the dark woolen cave, I fell back to sleep.

Meg woke me that morning in a manner far removed from anything I had experienced from her in previous days, gently shaking my shoulder and whispering my name.  Well, not _my name_ , she addressed me as _Clarence_ , but so softly that I couldn’t muster the nerve to be angry at her for what was becoming a pet name that I was reluctantly fond of. 

The gentle approach was so out of character for Meg, whom even during my heat was crude and unforgiving in her explanations and actions, that I thought for a moment to ask if there was something wrong.  I stilled my tongue though as she began to peel the blanket off of my body. 

“Come on Clarence, time to get up.  You need to be bathed.”  She directed me to stand in a wooden basin in front of the fire place while she poured steaming, lavender scented water from a pitcher into a bowel on the table. Beginning with my hair, she wet it and rubbed a pine scented soap over the matted strands, then rinsed it.  The hot water burned, bringing a bright flush to my chest as it formed rivulets down my skin.

Meg continued to work her way down my body with a coarse rag, wetting, soaping, and rinsing.  Her touches were gentle, different from the ministrations visited upon me by Rebecca.  Meg was careful as she worked around the still tender bite marks on my neck.  She wiped the cloth over the crusted seed on my belly and thighs, working the cloth in circular motions until the white mess flaked off my skin, then asked if I wanted to wash my member and rear areas.  I nodded that I did and took the cloth from her.  Rebecca had never given me the option, certain that I would never be able to adequately remove the filth on my own.  Meg turned her back and allowed me a modicum of privacy as I cleansed my most private parts.

After I was bathed, she wrapped a fresh blanket around me.

“Why are you being so nice to me, Meg?”

She glanced at the door before beginning to rub me dry. “Benny’s out there waiting for me finish getting you dressed.” 

“What on earth for?”

“To feed you. To talk to you. To check on you. Take your pick.”

I observed Meg as she began helping me dress in freshly laundered clothing; a testament to how oblivious I became in the deepest throws of my heat, that I did not remember her collecting the garments. 

Her movements remained gentle and her eyes averted. “Are you afraid of Benny?”  I couldn’t help but laugh at her.  The idea of Meg afraid of anyone, much less Benny, was absurd.

“He killed your last maid because he didn’t think she was taking good enough care of you.  I like my life, Clarence.”

 _Oh._ I had, strangely enough, forgotten that.  _How had I forgotten that_?  It occurred to me for the first time that I had not really mourned the loss of Rebecca.  I had been…sad? But certainly not enough to hold a grudge for longer than, apparently, a week.  Was it possible that I had not felt love for the woman who had all but raised me, as I thought I had? It presented a frightening thought.  Was I even aware of what love was?  Of course I was, I must have been. I was broken at the death of Anna.  I wept and wailed for her loss.  Rebecca’s death shocked me yes, it was a gruesome way to go, but was I genuinely devastated?  I didn’t think so, and that thought terrified me.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Meg.  You’re crude and a little mean, but you take care of me.  I’m not so certain she did.” Meg gave me a tentative smile. “And, honestly, you being nice is a little disturbing.”

“Just a little, Clarence?”

“I was trying to be polite.”

She laughed finally and tugged at a tuft of my still damp hair. “You’re not half bad Your Highness.”

Benny pounded on the door then.  “Ain’t he dressed yet?”

Meg rolled her eyes.  “Benny’s spent the last three days trading off with Sam guarding Dean.”

“Why would Dean need guarding?” 

“To keep him from breaking in here and mating you.  He was in rut.  We still don’t know if your heat set off his rut, or the other way around, or your just unlucky enough to be on the same cycle… Or lucky enough.”

“Meg!” Benny barked from the other side of the door. 

She held out my shoes for me to slip on.  I shook my head and pointed down to my toes as I wiggled them.  If I never had to wear shoes again I would be a very happy omega.

Turned out “to feed you,” was an understatement.  When Meg finally unlatched the door so Benny could enter, he lead me down to the kitchen where he began presenting me with more food than I could ever consume in one sitting.  Porridge, fruits, nuts, breads, eggs, milk, butter and honey.  I stared at the food wide eyed as Benny set cider on the table then stepped back scratching at his neck awkwardly.

“I know it ain’t much, but –“

“Ain’t much?  Benny, there’s no way I can eat all of this.”

“Oh.” He looked down at his feet, shifting back and forth.

“Which is a shame,” I hurried to say taking a long whiff of the porridge. “It looks delicious.”

Benny stood up a bit straighter, his chest puffing out as he smiled before taking a seat across from me.

Jo groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, for the love of … alphas.  Just make sure you clean up the mess you made, Benny.  If Mom see’s what you did to her pots she’s going to kill you.”

“You made this?”  I asked, scooping the first bite into my mouth – and trying very hard not to spit it back out.

“Yeah. Do you like it?” He leaned forward, watching my reaction. 

Jo covered her mouth to hide her snicker … she failed.  I began shoveling the porridge into my mouth and swallowing in an attempt to not taste it, as I nodded that, yes, I did in fact like it.  I believe that moment marked the first I ever lied to an alpha.

Benny watched me in silence as I ate, his eyes following my hand as it lifted to my mouth and back down.  It was awkward but Benny didn’t seem to notice my unease, more interested in ensuring I finished as much of the meal as possible.  Hoping to end the cumbersome silence I asked after Dean.

“Is he well?

A rumbling growl rose from his chest before he grumbled, “He’s fine.”

“Thank you. For what you did.”

Nodding, he looked away finally allowing me to resume my meal in peace.  We sat like that, only speaking when I finished the bowel, and Benny pushed another item in front of me, “Eat this, too, chère. Please.”  I did, a mix of not wanting to hurt his feelings, and instinct telling me to consume everything the alpha prepared for me.  To that turn, I ate until I wanted to cry from the fullness.

“Sam wants to teach you to read while you’re here,” Benny said as I leaned back in the chair. 

“I don’t know why.  I won’t be here long enough to learn anything.  I’d bet anything that I’ll be free within the next week.”

“Maybe, but Sam’s a stickler for ‘education.’  Can’t hurt none to learn your letters.”

I shrugged. He was right, it couldn’t hurt, and besides it would give me something to do with my time while I was being held prisoner. 

Benny reached across the table and ran his finger tips over the scabbed bite.  I jerked away, revulsion turning my stomach and nearly expelling the fare I had just consumed.  

“He was wrong to do that to ya.”

Running my own fingers over the bite, I shivered at the touch.  “What is it?”

Benny looked away from me, a mix of anger and pain etched on his features.  It was Jo who answered me, as she began clearing away the dishes. 

“A claiming bite.  It means … well, he’s …he claimed you as his.  It means he intends to mate you." She glanced to Benny. "It’s also a warning for other alphas to stay away.  It means you’re his.”

“But I don’t want to be his.  I’m betrothed to Crowley.  As soon as Michael comes and gets me I’m getting married.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” she continued.  “He didn’t really mean it. Between the rut and your heat … he feels awful.  It’ll go away in a few days if he doesn’t do anything about it.”

I looked at the alpha across from me.  “Benny?”

He looked back at me, swallowing, his eyes red rimmed and damp. “Rut or not, chère, he was wrong to do it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first use of the word "dildo" was in the middle ages as "dilldough", thus names after long, narrow, hard loaves of bread women would use as masterbatory devices. (I will never unlearn that). The first use of the spelling "dildo" was during the Rennaissance in provacative poems and sonnets. Who knew?  
> I'm using he spelling "dilldough" to remain "historically accurate?" I'm just jazzed I get to use the word. :-)


	6. Rededication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day I will update when I promise I will update ... one day.

The things that Benny and Jo had revealed to me weighed on me as I was escorted to the library where Sam resided.  I still didn’t understand what “claiming” was.  Did Dean intend to mate me, deny me to my brother and betrothed?  Would he mount me?   I had been assured that it was an action performed in the heat of the moment, but that did little to assuage my worries. 

Lifting my hand to my neck I dotted my fingers over the bite and shivered at the sensation that coursed through me.  It disturbed me that the feeling was arousing, but even more so that it left me longing for Dean’s touch.  I found myself looking around me trying to catch a glimpse of the alpha. 

“Will I be seeing Dean today?”

Benny kicked at a pebble on the trail.  “Can’t say for sure.”

I nodded my understanding and looked around again, scanning the grounds and castle.  Movement drew my attention to the battlements and I witness Dean standing there, his hands behind his back, staring at me. I smiled and raised my hand in a greeting, but the alpha turned away.  Lowering my hand, confused and embarrassed by this rejection, something twisted in my stomach. 

I didn’t understand why he would avoid me.  Logically I understood, Benny had explained it quite well to me, but I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the behavior.  Didn’t he like me?  He had acted like he had. 

I lifted my hand to the bite again; rubbing my fingers over the mark I swallowed down the choked sob that so desperately wanted to escape me, and instead found myself whining pathetically.  

“It will get better, chère. I promise.” 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, baby.”

I kept my eyes trained on the ramparts as Benny pulled me away, hoping to catch another glimpse of my Alpha, but there was nothing to see. He was gone.

Rather than swell on Dean's rejection, I scanned surrounding landscape, taking in the details I had not had the opportunity to explore before.  Grass.  I was touching grass.  Benny laughed as I stopped to wiggle my toes and dig my heals in, squishing them down in circular motions.

I fell to my knees like I had the day I was kidnapped, this time lowering my face to the earth and breathing in the scent of the grass, watching the way the blades filled in the gaps between my fingers.  I closed my eyes and _breathed_.  

 Benny laid down facing me.  “They didn’t allow you out much, huh?”

“I was allowed out.  Only, certain rules applied.” 

“Let me guess. Don’t touch the grass.”

“Don’t touch the grass. Don’t take your shoes off.  Don’t speak to alphas.  Don’t be in the presence of alphas. Don’t speak unless spoken to.  Don’t express your opinion; you are not qualified enough, smart enough, old enough. Don’t slouch. Don’t complain. Don’t be lazy. Don’t be too excitable. Don’t run. Don’t eat too much. Don’t embarrass us. Don’t talk back. Don’t argue. Don’t be defiant.”

Benny burst out laughing.  “Defiant?  You?  Can’t see it happen’.”

“I know.  I’m a very proper omega.”

“Uh huh.”

“What’s that suppose to mean,” I pushed up on my elbows.  I was a proper omega; I’d spent years perfecting myself to that affect.

“Besides refusing to submit.  Trying to runaway.  I saw you with that woman, when you ignored her so you could smell the leaves. I can only imagine what itty bitty defiant actions you perform on a regular basis, just to be defiant.  I bet you you’re the sort to slow down when someone desperately wants you to speed up.”

I rolled over onto my back and hummed at his statement.  He wasn’t … wrong.  I did enjoy being defiant.   Benny hovered over me and brushed a thumb over my eyebrow.

“It’s why I like you so much.  Even when you submit, you defy.  Right now for instance.”  I shook my head, not understanding.   

“Here we are on the grass, instead of in there,” he gestured toward the library, “where you were instructed to be.”

Heat rushed my face and body.  Again, Benny was not wrong, though I didn’t realize I was being defiant, I was in fact, deliberately avoiding being taught to read, for no other reason than I was surrounded by alpha’s who wanted me, too.

I threw myself back on the grass and groaned.  “Very well.  Though I still don’t see the point.”

Benny stood and extended his hand to help me up and we proceeded to the library.

The library was smaller than I had expected, much smaller than the one in Milton Castle.  Though I had only been in there a handful of times, its size and grandeur was in keeping with the rest of the castle, with rows and rows of books and scrolls, reaching several stories high. 

The Winchester Library, much like the castle, was only two levels high, the inside of which also contained the residence of Sam and Jess.

“Castiel!”  Sam smiled and waved from where he sat at a table with a large piece of parchment rolled out in front of him.  He rolled the scroll up and tucked it away in one of the many shelves. 

Benny left me in Sam’s care with the promise of returning in a couple of hours. 

The large alpha wasted no time in pulling out a small book, the binding yellowed with years.  Having me sit down, he opened it up. 

“This is how Dean and I were taught to read.”  The first page contained what Sam described as an alphabet.  “These are all the letters.  All words are made of these letters.”

There weren’t as many as I thought there would be, and Sam proceeded to teach me a song to help me remember them.  It was catchy and I caught myself laughing as I recited the letters song.

After reciting the song several times, Sam brought out a flat piece of wood with a thin layer of wax on the top and demonstrated with a small sharpened bone, how to replicate the letters.  My first attempt was quite poor, but I found if I treated it much like I did the outline for my stitching – artwork if you will, that it went much more smooth. 

The first page beyond the alphabet page consisted of a single letter, and three pictures under it, indicating the sound, and words written under the pictures.

I grew bored, having committed the first to memory rather quickly.  I begged Sam to either release me from my literacy servitude or allow me to move on to the next lesson. 

“You’re not very patient, are you?”  Sam turned the page to the next letter.

“I am quite patient.  I just don’t see the point to dwelling on something I am familiar with.”

“Haven’t you ever heard that practice makes perfect.”

“Yes, it also makes for frustrated and sloppy work.  My worst work was always after hours of ‘practice’.  I never understood why I could not simply learn something and move on and then use what I’ve learned practically. Once I can stitch a straight line, I do not need to fill a piece of cloth with a hundred more straight stitches.”

Sam regarded me for a moment. “Can I ask you something, Castiel?”

“I could not deny you if I wanted too.”

He looked as though he wished to argue the point, but instead proceeded to question me. “Do you want to be given to Prince Crowley?”

“What I _want_ is irrelevant.”  I repeated the words Michael had said to me time and again when I declared my desire for something.  I was subject to the desires of my alpha, and my alpha wanted to … I stopped my thoughts.  Was Michael still my alpha?  I had called Dean ‘Alpha’, had thought of him as _My Alpha_ … the idea confused me.

“It is relevant.  You shouldn’t be forced to the will of another.”

I tried to organize a response, but was rescued by Jess who set a tray of food on the table then slid into the seat beside Sam, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“How is the reading coming?”  She smiled at me as she began to pile a cloth with food.  She placed it before me, the mound much larger than the one she served to herself and Sam. 

We chatted a bit while I tried to stuff the meal into my body.  Every time I would stop eating one of the two of them would nudge the cloth and encourage me to continue. I wish I had been more confident in my actions then, but I was so afraid of offending my hosts, especially the ones that had been the kindest to me, that I remained silent and ate until every morsel was consumed.

When Benny came to retrieve me Sam gave me the book and the wood with instructions to practice my sounds and writing.  I left with the impression that reading was a very simple thing, and wondered briefly why it was that I was not permitted to learn it.  I asked as much of Benny as we walked down the corridors to my rooms.

“I s’pose it’s about power and control.” 

“I … how do you mean?”

Benny was about to speak, but his eyes focused on something over my shoulder.  I turned around to see Dean approaching.  I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.  I wanted to run to him and bury my nose in his neck, bare my throat and present … taking a deep breath I gained control of myself. 

Without saying a word to either of us, Dean reached out and took the book from my hand and smiled at it as he flipped the pages.  Without meeting my eyes, he began to speak. “I thought to see how the lesson was and inquire if there was anything you needed.”

There wasn’t anything really, but I was overcome with the need to ask for something.  My alpha wanted to be of use, and I wanted to give him the opportunity.  “I could use some occupation.  It is only midday and I have nothing else to occupy my time besides exploring, and tomorrow promises more of the same, so…”

Dean stepped closer into my space, dropping the book to his side. “I’m sure there’s something you can help with.” He licked his lips and inches closer. “Garth and Bess could probably use some help wrangling pups, or Ben could use you, if you don’t mind horses.   Ellen’s always complaining she needs more hands in the kitchen.”

Breathing deep, I leaned in.  My mouth watered from the scent of pears and musk.  Though I was already well fed I suddenly felt incredibly empty.

Benny cleared his throat from beside me, reminding me of where I was.  Dean rumbled a growl in his direction and Benny threw up his hands in surrender.  Dean handed Benny the book and block then growled at him again, positioning himself between myself and the other alpha. 

Benny rolled his eyes. “You better behave yourself brotha’,” Benny warned before leaving us alone. 

“I brought you something.”  Dean reached into his jerkin and pulled out a cloth of nuts and dried fruits.  I stared down at the proffered gift, thinking of my ever expanding stomach, still tense with over feeding.  I couldn’t hold it back – I started to cry.

Dean pulled me to him in a tight embrace, squishing me against his chest.  “Cas, what’s the matter, what’d I do wrong.”

“I don’t understand.  Why does everyone keep feeding me?  It hurts, and everyone just keeps giving me more.”

Dean’s chest vibrated with laughter.  “Oh my gods, Cas.  You should have said something.”  He pushed me away and brushed at my tears with his thumbs.  “We wouldn’t have kept it up if we knew we were hurting you.”

“But why?”

He scratched the back his neck before answering.  “Well, you sort of smelled—wrong, when you first got here.” 

“I remember.  I’m also small, pale and look like a girl.”  I was trying very hard to display an air of displeasure, but it was difficult to be offended when Dean was smiling at me like I just pulled down the moon.

“Don’t be like that.”  He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled close again, burying his nose into the bite on my neck. “You were too small and thin.  You didn’t smell like an omega should. It was instinct to start feeding you.  You were half starved. Benny said you smelled like Purgatory.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

 “It’s where he’s from.  It divides Milton and Hellios, and boarders Winchester.   It smells like—decay.”

Tilting my head I took that word in. _Decay._ “Are you saying I smelled like I was _rotting?_ ”

He chuckled into my neck, and snuffled behind my ear.  “You smell more like the cold now.”

I groaned as he returned to my neck and mouthed at the marks he left behind. Every pass of his tongue sent me reeling and I pressed myself closer to the alpha.  I tilted my head, offering him access to me.

He pulled back from my neck and looked me in the eyes.  I noticed for the first time that his eyes were not so different from the forest that surrounded Winchester Castle.  Green, with flecks of sun giving the impression of transparency.  His cheeks were dusted with freckles and I found myself trailing my fingers over the speckled flesh.  Dean closed his eyes and relaxed into my touch. 

He whispered my name, “Cas.”

I shivered again, my name on his lips nudged at something primal inside of me.  I could feel the dampness of my slick begin to coat me, prepare me for mating, and whether I knew what it meant or not, whether it was irrelevant or not, I _wanted_ it. 

I rocked forward on my toes, the urge to connect my mouth with his conflicting with my desire to remain in control of my body and actions.  Dean leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine.  I closed my eyes, indulging in the warm breath on my lips and the caressing fingers dancing down my tunic and making their way under the loose fabric. 

His calloused fingers pressed hotly against my chilled flesh and I gasped at his touch, opening my eyes and seeing Deans still closed tightly.  His Adams-Apple worked as he swallowed before pressing his body against mine.

 “I want to touch you, Cas.” He whispered into my mouth. “Can I touch you?” 

I nodded, to out of breath to answer verbally.  We remained there, face to face, breathing each other’s breath as Dean’s fingers worked at the ties on my hosen. I closed my eyes again as his scent filled my lungs, every breath pulsating with arousal. I began to shake with the anticipation of how exactly Dean was going to “touch” me.

I pressed my groin to his, thrusting against him, seeking friction. Dean groaned and moved back to my neck, licking and nibbling at the bite as he made small jerking motions with his hips.  The sensation brought to my mind the memory of my heat and the insatiable need that would have been satiated had Benny not intervened.  The thought brought me to my senses. I wasn’t in heat and Dean wasn’t in rut and though my mind was clouded with excitement, I was in full control of my actions and reminded myself that I wasn’t _his_. 

No matter how desperately I wanted to be his in that moment, I wasn’t, and more to the point, outside of this _claiming_ , I hated the man.  My sound mind hated Dean Winchester.  My sound mind still wanted him dead.  My stomach roiled in the disgust I felt for myself, that I had let myself be sidetracked.  _Stay away from alphas._   I understood the reasoning why, then.  I wouldn’t let myself be distracted. 

“Stop,” I gasped, trying to breathe the word through my heavy breaths.

Dean pressed closer his erection rubbing against mine.

“Stop, Alpha.  Please, Stop.”

Dean stilled over me and growled as he rested his forehead on my shoulder.  His chest rose and fell in a quick rhythm. 

“You’re killing me, Cas.” He stepped away from me, giving me a full view of his disheveled body.  He was beautiful standing there in front of me.  His bowed lips damp with saliva and his sand colored hair messed and skewed from where my hands had clutched and twisted against my knowledge.  My fingers twitched at my side, longing to bury themselves again

 I groaned at the cool absence that now surrounded me and became acutely aware of the slick leaking down thighs and the ache of blood filled member.  I wanted him back against me but clinched my jaw against speaking the words.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He ran a thumb over my lip.  “Stay away from me, Castiel.  It’ll be safer for both of us.”

The Alpha left me then, disheveled and half desperate to be mounted.  Dean had no idea how prophetic his words were.  I had to remind myself of the promise I made myself that first day and recommitted myself to my silent oath. 

Checking down the halls to ensure I was still alone, I adjusted my hosen, and turned toward my room. 

 

 

 

 


	7. Rabbits, Horses and Cats! Oh, My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOC Warning in the end notes.

The following day I took myself to my lesson with Sam.  He was quite impressed with the progress I had made just overnight.  To stave off the boredom I had taught myself several words and sounds.  His pride at my achievement embarrassed me; I wasn’t accustomed to praise, so I waved the compliments off.

Dean was as good as his word, sending Benny to accompany me to Garth and Bess.  Imagine my surprise in discovering that Garth was an omega! He was happy with a genuine grin that made me smile in return, and a penchant for hugging.  Another thing I was not accustomed to, but found that I enjoyed much more than the praise. 

Upon first encounter he seemed like a ridiculous man, clumsy, talkative and gregarious.  As Benny and I approached the forest’s edge where Garth and the pups were all assembled, the omega stood high on his toes – though there was nothing impeding our sight of one another, and waved excitedly, as if we could easily overlook his presence. 

“We’re over here!  Right here!” He called.  And when we did arrive fast enough, he ran to us and embraced me is hug much tighter than I would have thought his spindly frame capable.  

“I’m so happy to meet you, Castiel!” Garth slapped my back and pulled away, still retaining a tight grip on my arms.  His smile made him look younger than I had first believed.

His wife – or mate, I should say, using the term instead of “husband” or “wife” is still something I have not mastered – was the opposite in her external behaviors; calm, quiet, reserved, and incredibly kind. The kindness they shared in like.

I hadn’t ever been around children since I was a child myself and found the entire experience surreal.  Garth assured me that as an omega it was almost second nature for us to be caregivers.  I was not entirely certain Garth was accurate in his supposition, but I was willing to put forth the same effort I had been taught to exhibit.

I learned that for several hours every afternoon many of the village children went to Garth and Bess for “lessons.” Many of these children were barely out of diapers.  Bess explained that they were the children that were too old to nurse and be bound to their mother’s backs, but too young to be any use with occupations or chores.  Their time with Garth and Bess was more to keep them out of the way for a few hours than anything else, but they used games to teach them basic pack skills.

The first thing we did was play a hunting game in the forest. Bess and Garth separated the children into groups then pulled a rabbit out of a sack.  Each child took turns smelling the rabbit, before separating into their groups, or as he called them, “packs.”

“Here are the rules.  There are seven rabbits in this sack, whoever brings me back a rabbit, _unharmed_ , earns Bess’ sweet dates for their pack. Ready?” 

Garth dropped the rabbit out of the sack and it bounded into the forest brush.  I kept an eye on the children, as was my assignment, and the most astonishing thing began to occur. 

They began to _change_.  Only slightly; longer nails, low snarls and growls.  Their faces took on an animalist manner, though I could not define exactly how the features changed, just that when looking at them I could most definitely see the wolf that lingered under the surface. 

“GO!” Bess yelled, and the children took off into the trees, youthful howls echoing about.

Garth gripped my shoulder and laughed.  “Oh, those pups.”   He didn’t elaborate on what he meant, but laughed even louder when we heard the rustling of branches and the high pitched whine of defeat. 

“I suppose we should get in there before they hurt themselves,” Bess said, leading the way into the woods.  I stayed close to Garth, still uncertain what I was expected to do, and feeling much more secure in the presence of another omega.

Every now and then we would glance the rabbit with a small child close behind it, before it escaped, leaving a very frustrated pup in its wake.

“Do you and Bess not have children?”  I asked, as small boy pulled himself up off the ground after the rabbit had wiggled free of his hands.

My question was met with a sad smile, “No,” he began.  “We can’t, you know. Omega/Beta matings don’t produce pups. It’s okay though, we’ve got this.”  He gestured around the woods, indicating the children.

Garth tilted his head toward a little girl holding a small rabbit in her arms … the wrong rabbit, but still a rabbit. I couldn’t help but feel a little pride at her accomplishment. Wrong rabbit or not, I was uncertain if it was something I could achieve. 

The girl couldn’t have been any older than three or four and she hugged the rabbit close to her as it began to wiggle about in her grasp -- she tightened her grip.

“Looks like someone’s getting sweet dates,” Garth sing-songed towards the little girl.  She smiled in returned before turning a frustrated glare to the wiggling rabbit.

The tiny figure growled much deeper than one might expect, then snapped her fangs around the rabbits neck.  The small creature began to squeal and fight in the child’s jaw, its high pitched scream frantic and terrified.  The girl released her hands from the animal and began to shake her head, whipping the rabbit back and forth until it stopped struggling and the screams silenced. 

I was reminded of a tiny lap dog Gabriel had at one time; a small fuzzy creature that yipped and yapped and trotted around the palace urinating and defecating on everything in its path.  Gabriel had named it Sweet Tart and given it a poppet that it dragged around and would occasionally shake maddeningly in its jaw, growling.  It was the bane of our family for two longs months.  Until one day it lifted its leg on Michael’s foot.  Michael only raised an eyebrow at the revolting creature. Undeterred Sweet Tart yapped at him, it’s little body hopping up and down in its spot while it barked up at Michael, challenging the Alpha. 

Michael leaned down and growled at it, it growled back.  Then Michael roared.  The poor animal dropped dead, there on the spot. 

A part of me wanted to smile, remembering Sweet Tart, but staring wide eyed at the child, whose chin now had blood trickling down toward her tunic kept me from enjoying the memory.

“That was very good, Megan,” Garth said, “but the rule was to leave the rabbit alive, pup.”

She sighed, pulling the rabbit from her mouth. Megan met my eyes and smiled, approaching me and extending the rabbit out in an offering.

“Isn’t that sweet?!”  Bess said, from somewhere behind me. “She’s providing for you!”

I couldn’t hold my stomach and emptied it on the proffered rabbit.  I tried to apologize, but Megan’s lip began to quiver as I did, and then she released an ear slipped howl and burst into sobs.

“Well,” Garth said, patting me on the shoulder, “perhaps working with children just isn’t the best option for you.”

***

“You shouldn’t feel all that bad, Castiel.”  Benny pressed a warm palm against my back as he led me to the stable.

“I vomited on that child’s rabbit.  I made a four year old girl cry, Benny. Garth actually said, ‘I don’t think he should be allowed around children.’” 

Benny wiped a tear from his face as he tried – unsuccessfully, to hold back his laughter.   

Benny left at the stable in the care of a young man, not much younger than myself, by the name of Ben, a pleasant stable boy that reminded in many ways of Dean. Not just in his appearance, but in his mannerism and speech as well. 

I was standing off to the side watching as he demonstrated how to brush a horse when I made the claim.  He stood a little straighter, smiling as though I had just bestowed the greatest compliment; it only took a moment for it become clear that I had indeed done just that. 

 “Here,” he said, “you give it a go.”  Ben extended the brush to me and I shifted my body to reach for it, stepping closing into the horse’s space.  The animal stomped his foot, snorting and shaking his head. 

Yelping, I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet, landing with a thud on the hard ground and biting my tongue. 

Ben moved to help me stand but before he could reach me, I rolled to my knee and came face to face with an arching, hissing, black cat; one eye wide and menacing, while the other sat empty and hollow.  I may have screamed -- arching off the ground in a move that almost imitated the hissing feline. The cat growled and I did, too, then it swiped at me and I reached the limits of my courage.

Yelping again, I scurried back, plopping myself into a pile of horse dung.

***

“Only you, Clarence.”  Meg had not stopped laughing since I walked back into the castle with Ben close behind trying to stifle a laugh while simultaneously trying to reassure me through huffing coughs of amusement.

“Maybe animals just aren’t your thing, Castiel.”

I growled at the young beta before stomping, and in no way having a temper tantrum, to my room, where Meg continued to scrub the scented soap over my body as I sat with water up to my neck.

***

Between children, rabbits, horses and cats Benny though that perhaps the safest place for me to be of help would be the kitchen.  “The worst you’ll find there is an errant mouse,” he had said, and instructed me to Ellen. 

For her part, Ellen huffed and rolled her eyes.  “Not like I can’t use the help, but you don’t look much in the way of help”.

“I can’t say I will be, but I can follow simple instructions and I don’t complain.”

She hummed at me then called over the same brown haired woman that had given me the food, on the morning of my attempted escape.

“Lisa, have Castiel help you. Make sure he learns what he needs to know.”

Lisa avoided speaking to me as best she could, offering little more than the occasional instruction.  I will admit, I was lost for the most part, having never so much as held a knife before much less peel a potato – a rooter I had never encountered before. 

Holding the potato, I clumsily scraped the knife over the brown skin until the knife slipped and nicked my thumb. 

“You’re useless,” Lisa snapped at me, startling me as I sucked on the tiny cut. “Peel away from your hand you idiot.”

I lowered my head in part to avoid confronting the hostile woman, and in part to hide my embarrassment.  When I had asked Dean for some occupation that might occupy my time, I had expected to discover how completely worthless I was at anything that could be useful.  

Lisa sat down across from me, and began slicing the peeled potatoes into long narrow slices.  I managed to peel a single potato for every three that she sliced, until she finished and sat with her arms crossed and eyebrow raised, tapping her foot. 

“Oh for the love of all the Gods.”  She snatched the potato out of my hand.  “Just fry them.”

“I don’t know—“

“Of course you don’t.”

Apparently frying potatoes is “simple.”  Now, I may not be the most intelligent, but contrary to common opinion, I am not dim, but leaving me to my own devices in a situation I am unfamiliar with is asking for trouble.

For instance, when an omega who has never cooked _anything_ ever, slides a tray full of cold, sliced potatoes into a pan of hot grease, the sizzling and popping will startle said omega.  And when grease pops up and burns the omega in the face, he’s going to jolt, possibly jarring the pan, maybe sloshing grease over the edge and into the fire.  How is an omega, who had never cooked a thing in his life, to know that grabbing a cup of water and throwing it over the fire will spread said fire?   Or that smacking the fire with a cloth that has spilled grease on it will set the cloth on fire, ultimately burning that omega’s hand – badly.

That is how I found myself being dragged into the village and straight to a rather large cottage, adorned with drying herbs hanging from the rafters.

Lisa shoved me through the door, making me stumble and fall to my knees at feet of a woman.  I let my eyes travel up her dress to the face that towered over me.  Dark curls fell loosely over her shoulders.  Her eyes were covered by a blindfold; even so she stared down, as though she could see me.

A wide smile lit up her face. “Castiel! What a surprise!”  She tilted her head up, _looking_ at Lisa, the smile falling to a thin lipped glare. “ _You_ can leave.”

I remained kneeling on the floor, afraid to move.  The blindfolded woman was intimidating, power radiating off of her.  Even blind she was terrifying in her presence.

“No worries, Omega.”  She knelt next to me. “I’m Pam. Take a seat and I’ll get poultices for those burns.”

Leaning on my uninjured arm, I stood up, but rather than find a place to sit I began to wander around. The walls were filled with shelves stuffed with concoctions. I trailed my fingers along the way, deliberately making in attempt to avoid looking directly at Pam.  If she could see me, somehow, I didn’t want to offend her by staring.  I felt ridiculous trying to evade the sight of a blind woman.

As I wondered I came upon a small shelf, separated from the rest, with about ten vials, each marked with dark X.  I lifted one out and rolled it around in my hand. 

“I would be careful with that, Omega.  Those are quite dangerous.”  She sat down a bowl of water and one with a foul smelling black paste.   She tilted her head toward the vial in my hand as she tore some strips of cloth.  “That one is derived from Deadly Nightshade. A few drops can kill.”

“Then why would you have it?” I asked.

“When used properly, it can have many curative benefits.”  She took it from my hand and allowed a single drop to fall in the poultice.  Without a single stumble she recapped the bottle, stepped around me, and placed in back in its place on the shelf.

 “You have something on your mind,” Pam stated, as she gestured for me to take a seat. 

There was a quite a bit on my mind, if I were to be honest.  I was concerned about why there had not yet been word from Michael, though I suppose with a war raging at the border, there were other priorities besides myself.  I was concerned about the claim that still seemed to have a strange hold on me.  I couldn’t shake the feeling that if I did not take steps soon, I would miss my opportunity to take my revenge.  Feeling none of those were issues that would be appropriate to bring to Pam’s attention, I settled on a question she might be able to answer for me. 

 “Is there a reason Lisa dislikes me?  Have I done something – offensive?”

Pam snorted, wrapping my hand carefully and precisely, her lack of vision doing nothing to hinder her sight, and her eerie countenance. 

“Dean’s been paying you a bit more attention than she would like, and when he claimed you…” she smirked wickedly, “she was furious.”

“What on earth for?”  I honestly had no clue why she would find Dean’s interest in me any sort of threat to her.  I wouldn’t be there long enough to be a threat if she had sights set on the Alpha.

“She’s been trying to get Dean to mate her for twelve years, maybe longer, honestly.  Ever since she was bred up with Ben.”

“Ben?  From the stable?”

Pam nodded, setting my hand on the table. “She demanded that Dean take her as a mate.  Alpha John forbid it, and Dean, honestly had no interest in being her mate.  In retribution she refused to name Dean as Ben’s father and threatened to leave the Winchester Pack, taking Ben with her.”

“I don’t understand.  Ben is Dean’s son?” 

She nodded. “By blood, but not recognition.  He can’t officially recognize Dean as his son without Lisa’s declaration.”

 “Why can Dean not claim him, he _is_ the Alpha.”

Pam shrugged. “It doesn’t work that way here.  It protects mothers and omega’s who conceive through … less than consensual means.   Unfortunately, it can also mean feral bitches can toy with …” Pam sighed heavily. “Never mind that.  So she stays to tempt Dean with the promise of Ben.  Even let Dean name him, trying to play on Dean’s sentiment.  Neither John nor Dean were stupid.  So Dean named him after his best friend and still refused to mate her.”

“Will Ben become Alpha after Dean?”

Pam shrugged again. “Benny is Dean’s second.  If something happens to Dean, he becomes the High Alpha.  If Dean lives a long life, he names the next High Alpha.  It’s possible he could name Ben.” She was silent for a moment.  “To be honest, I think the only reason Dean hasn’t started grooming Ben to be High Alpha is because of Lisa.  Without her acknowledging Dean as his father … it would just give her too much power and position.”  Again, she sighed, shaking her head.  “It’s all just--“

“Politics.” 

“Exactly,” she said, with that surprised tone that indicated she thought I was as dim as everyone else. Pam stared at me through her blindfold for a moment, before silently returning to her work.  

I had not expected to tender so much information, but I had learned over the years that people want to tell you things.  Not alphas, alphas never wanted to share information, but everyone else couldn’t hold their gossip in. All I had to do was remain silent and ask strategic, seemingly innocuous questions. 

Nearly all the information I had garnered about Crowley and Hellios had been gathered from listening to betas and women gossip, especially Gabriel.

The encounter with Pam had left me with four things I knew for certain.  First Dean Winchester had an illegitimate child before he was promised to Anna. Second, he refused to marry —or mate, the mother of his child.  Third, Benny, a frightening yet honorable alpha, would become High Alpha if Dean died. 

I let my eyes linger on the poison filled vial.

Fourth, I knew how I was going to kill Dean Winchester.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisa Braeden is not a nice person in this fic. You have been warned.


	8. Poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. So very, very, sorry.

If there is one thing I learned more than any other is it to be patient; to watch and listen and bide my time.  So I did, lying to an alpha for the second time in my life, I assured Benny – and through him Dean—that I quite enjoyed the kitchen, and secured myself there. 

I would observe Pam as best I could from a distance, delaying my lessons with Sam, or arriving early, in order to allow me the opportunity to witness any pattern that may emerge.  My time in the kitchen was not so fluid, as I learned quickly that Ellen was a firm taskmaster – a trait that I found myself admiring – and demanded that I arrive precisely as ordered, when ordered.  She was also straightforward and took no care in mincing her words. 

“You are the worst kitchen wench I’ve ever had in my employ, Castiel,” she said to me one day.  “If I ever catch you trying to cook or so much as touch anything that will at any point be consumed by a living creature I will slice your fingers off, I swear by the Gods, Castiel, I’ll do it.” 

She set me to labor doing menial tasks, scrubbing mostly, but also serving food and drink, with the simple instruction, “Try not to drop anything.”

And thus my days went for the better part of a week, and on into a second.  The month was growing late and a chill was in the air that Sam informed me meant the freeze was imminent. I was beginning to fear I would be trapped in the Pack Lands, a prisoner of the wolves, for the rest of my days, when my mind snagged a pattern in Pam’s comings and goings.

Early each morning, just after the sun would rise, Pam would leave her home, returning some time later.  I had never connected this pattern simply because I most often rose from my sleep after she returned.  I had chanced one morning, after a restless night to spot her return.  The same pattern continued for several days, and then I took my chance.

My comings and goings were not so guarded those days, as I had taken steps to appear content in my imprisonment, even saying such to Benny on more than one occasion; more lies that I was becoming more and more apt at spinning.  I had convinced myself it was for the greater good, a better High Alpha, revenge for my sister and perhaps, in my own selfish pride, recognition and approval from Michael.

I slipped from my room one morning, donning the heavier breeches and wool tunic that I had received when the temperature dropped.  I remained bare footed, finding I could move quieter and quicker thus. 

The first stirrings of the village greeted me as I took the path toward Pam’s home, and so much like a wolf did I look, that no one paid me any mind at all.  Even I had barely recognized myself when I caught my reflection once in a looking glass.

I slipped quickly into her cottage, took the vile I committed to memory that day, and re-committed again each time I would arrive for fresh bandages.  I slipped it into my pocket, and dropped an empty vial into the place it had occupied.  I did not know how far Pam’s sight extended, but I knew she would sense an empty spot where her Deadly Nightshade had been, blind or not.

I hurried out again, having wasted no time to feel apprehension.  I tried to keep my heart steady as I made my way back to the castle and into my room.  Anxious perspiration dripped at my temple and I fell into a heaving panic as I leaned against my closed door.  I would have to do it that day, or I might lose not only the chance but also my nerve. 

I doubted my actions.  As I sat with Sam, his kind laughter and stories of a youthful Dean softened me a bit, making me reconsider my actions.  Sam spoke of him as though he was the Full Moon itself.   I thought then that perhaps I was wrong in my actions. 

Rubbing the vial still secreted in my pocket, I began to consider that perhaps I was not the person to avenge Anna.  I was only an omega, designed to bare children and be obedient—not assassinate alphas.

Where Sam had made me doubt my resolve, Lisa had solidified it.  Her hateful stares and rude comments reminded me that she saw me as a threat to her place as Dean’s mate.  When Ben came to the kitchen to fetch a quick bite, Lisa had run her fingers through his hair, and given him more than his share of food.  Her eyes had softened for the first time since I had met the woman and it was painfully clear that she loved her son unconditionally.  It was a reminder to me of the sort of man that Dean Winchester really was. 

I wondered as I watched Lisa and Ben together if Anna knew about Ben.  Had he been kept a secret from her?  Was she aware that any child she bore would not have first right to the Pack Lands?  No matter what Pam said, I knew how politics worked on a fundamental level.  Dean would favor his eldest son, illegitimate or not.

I clutched the vial and barely held back a snarl.  Ben’s rightful place would not be denied at Dean’s death, he was Benny’s namesake, his Godson. 

I had thought to do it during the evening meal, but as I was not familiar with the workings of Deadly Nightshade, I was afraid I may accidently poison some innocent bystander.  From what Pam had said, a drop could kill … but a drop in the poultice had healed, so I assumed the mixtures diluted the qualities, as such, I knew I would need a substantial quantity. 

I did not ask permission when I placed the pitcher of wine and a goblet on a tray and exited the kitchen.  I stopped briefly on the steps, out of sight to empty half the vial into the cup.  It had a slightly bitter scent, though not unpleasant, and I found I had the desire to taste it.  I was comforted that it would not be unpleasant enough to turn Dean away from the drink.  I filled the cup with wine and continue my ascent. 

I knew Dean would be on the battlements.  He was a man who liked his routines I discovered, and would stand as dusk fell, watching his people finish their tasks and begin their own preparations for the evening.

“Dean,” I said as I approached him, not wishing to startle the alpha. 

“Cas?  What are you doing up here?  I thought we agreed we should stay away from each other.” He licked his lips, their plump bow drawing me in, making me desire to taste them as did the poison now dispersed through the wine.

We had agreed to remain apart, and with good reason.  Though the claim had faded now, the sense memory of it was still intact and with it a longing to have Dean press his teeth into in my flesh once again.

“I wished to thank you, Alpha,” I said, softening my voice while lowering my eyes.  Movements of capitulation.  “You had no reason to be as kind to me as you have been.”

I looked at him through my eyelashes, a movement I had seen Joanna use when trying to garner the attention Ash, one of Deans betas. It was, from my observation, meant to be alluring.  It must have worked, because Dean gasped, almost inaudibly and mumbled my name.  Against my will I smiled and blushed.

“It wasn’t anything, Cas.  You’re just sorta caught up in this, aren’t you?”  He reached out, cupping my face.  I closed my eyes and leaned into the touch, tilting my head, allowing my neck to show in submission, though there was no honestly in the movement.

Flicking my eyes back to his, I spoke again. “I thought you might be thirsty.  I would have prepared you a meal, but Ellen has yet to permit me access to food.  Not that I can blame her.”

I had played on all of his instincts, even using the claiming bite to my advantage.  In his desire to teach me all I could learn, Sam had been more than forthcoming in answering all my questions, and what he was too embarrassed to answer, Jess did. 

I extended the tray and Dean took the cup, taking a hardy swallow.  He licked his lips, and then drank the rest down.

He looked down that the goblet, his expression confused, and then back up at me; blinking his eyes repeatedly as though he could not see me clearly.   I took as step back and watched as his breaths began to come quick and shallow. 

“Cas?  What did you do?”  He was peeling his cloth of his body, hissing and crying out in pain. “Gods! It hurts.” 

I had not expected that.  In my imagination he had collapsed choking, perhaps turning a deep purple shade, instead he continued to undress himself, yelling that his skin was being boiled off.   I had not wanted to cause him pain.  No matter that I wished him to die, I did not wish it to be so painful. 

I swallowed the tears that threatened to spill.  I thought briefly to seek help, to find Pam and confess all I had done in the hopes that she could heal what damage I had inflicted upon the alpha.  I stilled myself, determined to see this through.  I had committed myself, for Anna, after all.  As I stood there, tray and hands shaking in rhythm with the sobs that now rattled freely from me, I ached for what I had just done. 

I wanted to take it back, to change the course I had set, but at the same time I wished to see it to its end.  The only comfort I could take was that the decision was now firmly out of my hands.  There was nothing I or anyone else could do, if incoherent babbling and howls of confused pain were any indication.  I prayed silently that Dean Winchesters suffering would end quickly.

Dean had drawn attention to us with his antics and I knew my time with him was limited.  He was on the ground now, writhing in pain and I knelt beside him.  I wanted to touch him, to bring some form of comfort to the man whose blood was on my hands, but I feared I might cause him more undue pain.  

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”   My cries were insufficient, I knew. 

Apologies were pointless, intended or not.  Michael had told me on more than occasion.  “I do not want your apologies, Castiel.  Change your actions or make amends for them, but cease the platitudes.”  

But there were no actions I could change and no amends I could make, so I cried my sorrow out until arms gripped me, pulling me away as the wolves descended upon their Alpha.

“Castiel, what happened?”  It was Benny, holding me, pulling my face to his chest.  I didn’t understand why at first.  Did he not know that I had murdered his Alpha, his closest friend?  But I realized that the hot fat tears burning their way down my face, and incomprehensible apologies gave the impression that I was as distressed as those surrounding Dean and calling for Pam.

I pulled away from Benny watching at the village stopped all its movements and stared at the castle.  Pam was running up the path I had followed earlier that day.  She stopped her run and looked up at me; her uncovered, empty hollowed out eyes meeting mine.  She evoked images of creatures sent from the underworld to carry sinners to eternal torment; she was so frightening in her exposed state.

She watched me a moment more, her lips pursed tight, and how I could see these minute details of her person, I did not know, but could, and I knew, just as preternaturally, that she knew what I had done.

I turned back to Benny, who reached out for me, but I stepped away.  I would take my punishment with the dignity I was trained with.  I may have been an omega, but I was still a prince.  Squaring my shoulder I looked Benny in the eye and confessed. 

“I poisoned him. For what he did to Anna.”  It was not nearly as confident a confession as I hoped, the admission, instead, falling from my lips in whispered, choppy half sentences.

***

The entirety of the village and castle remained in shocked silence as the sun set and I was taken deep into the bowels of the castle – a part I had not previously known existed.  Of course I was aware that people were punished and imprisoned, though the reality of such had not even been imagined to me. 

Benny had passed me to some unfortunate guard with the order to take me below.  I felt for the beta, who was not much older than myself and carried a terrified shadow in his eyes. He was rough with me as we walked, shoving me into walls and down stairs.  I did not blame him for his hostility and in truth I had not expected to leave that ramparts alive. 

He spoke not a word, taking my arm in his clawed grip he shoved me into a small room with a dirt floor and cold stone walls.  There were, on the wall directly in front of the door, a set of restraints, in which I was firmly shackled.

All light vanished from the small prison when the guard slammed the door behind him.  I discovered, as I began to grasp my predicament, that the cuffs holding me would not allow me to sit, nor to kneel, they were so short.  Second I noticed, though much more pressing, was that there was no possible way for me to relieve myself, and wondered if they intended for me to soil myself as part of my punishment.   I could only assume yes.

There was no way of knowing how many hours passed or even if it were hours.  The only indication I had that time passed at all was my own exhaustion and the ever increasing cold that had my body shivering and my teeth chattering.   My mind began to wonder and I thought of my coming fate.  Would they hang me? Stone me?  Rend my flesh from my bones and devour me as Benny had so efficiently done to Rebecca? 

It was in the midst of these thoughts the walls of my dungeon began to rumble and my chains to vibrate around my wrists.  The rumbling began to rise to an audible howl that at first I mistook for the wind, but as it continued to grow, and more wisps of sound were added, something primal inside of me began to take note.  My body shivered, though not with cold, but with the vibrating of blood and bone, so deep that it called to the core of me.  I wanted to join the call, to become part of it and add my voice to the lamentations. 

It released from me as an extension of what was circling inside my body, adding my voice to the others, completing the melody that crescendoed and reverberated around me and inside of me, clutching at my very soul and letting any that could hear, know that our Alpha was gone.


	9. What Was Lost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :::TRIGGER WARNING::: Read the Tags. If you think I need more tags, let me know.  
> Also, apologies for any mistakes. After it was beta'd I added the final scene, and couldn't bring myself to re-read it. Any mistakes there are my own.

I had no way to mark time as it passed, only the functions of my body.  Enough time had passed for my throat to become rough and parched with thirst, and for my stomach to ache painfully from hunger.  The embarrassment of trying desperately to retain the hold on my bladder, and ultimately losing it, had passed away as pain and exhaustion took its place. 

My legs and knees burned from standing, at first tried alternating foot to foot, bending my knees, and then crouching as best I could until the chains pulled at my wrists.  My arms, too, ached, as I was unable to lower them more than a few inches so that any movement had become painful.

Exhaustion finally got the best of me and my legs buckled, the shackles jerking my wrists and shoulders as the full weight of my body pulled at it.  I yelled out, my voice strangely quiet in the small prison.

No strength was left in my arms nor my legs, and so I hanged there; the too-tight cuffs pulling at my wrists and cutting into my flesh.  Trickles of blood began coursing their way down my arm and I began to cry.

I passed out once or twice, always rousing more exhausted that I had been when my body could no longer endure the pain.  I came understand that this was how I was going to die.

***

When next I woke, I knew it was either a dream or that I was dead.  Crumpled to the ground of the cell, my wrists were no longer encased in cold steal and body no longer shaking from bone deep pain and cold. 

The cell door was open and Pam, with her eyes covered in a bright red cloth, stood still in the entrance, emotionless. She turned silently an walked away, leaving the door open. I followed her, with no other reason than that I felt that I should.

I stopped at the door when my eyes fell on the wolves.  The corridor that extended to the stairs leading out of the below was lined with wolves.  Some where large while others were quite small, each positioning themselves close to each other, filling every available space, whether they be sitting, standing or laying. They were all growling as I passed. 

They then lined the stairs, one on each, sitting on their haunches.  The growls remained at a steady thrum that I felt more than heard as the rumble vibrated through the stone floor and up my bare feet. 

My pace quickened to catch up to Pam, hoping to find solace from the unnerving glare of the wolves, but no matter how fast my feet moved I remained at a consistent distance from my guide, and it seemed as though, no matter the speed I stayed at a steady pace as I passed each wolf.

Pam led me through the Great Hall, nearly every space occupied by a wolf, moving to make space for Pam and me to pass through.  The growls had ended now, but the unsettling way that their eyes followed me, as stony in their expressions as Pam, was far more terrifying than. I would have preferred the growls.

 Pam continued on into the kitchen and to the door of the larder.  She opened the door, never looking back and entered the cold room; I stopped at the door refusing to enter.  From the moment I had taken employment in the kitchen I had avoided it, oft times receiving cold stares for my refusal.  I gave no explanation for my reasoning, which in turn did nothing to ingratiate me to Ellen. 

There I stood, watching Pam walk to a far wall, where yet another door stood.  She placed her hand on the handle, and tilted her head as though she was glancing over her shoulder at me, waiting for me to follow.  I stood still, allowing my eyes to slide over the carcasses that hung on the walls and the barrels of pickled fishes and preserving salts. 

A large wolf to my left began growling and moved to stand in my path.  He was much larger than the others I had passed, or perhaps it was just that he was so close to me there.  His growl deepened and then he lunged forwarded, forcing me back.  Another wolf behind me yipped and nudged me forward.  I turned, again to run from the door, away from the larder and the dead animals there in.  Away from Pam’s ever-seeing blind eyes, which had yet to look away.  Away from the wolves, and back to the sanctuary that my dungeon offered.  At least there my fate was certain, and there was comfort in the knowledge that your end is certain.

The wolves closed in on me, yipping and growling, nipping at my ankles, forcing me into the larder.  Once I stepped across the threshold the door slammed behind, though it had opened into the room, and no hand had touched it. 

Pam’s lips tilted up in a smirk as she clicked the handle and pushed the door open. 

Light streamed into the larder, blinding me, as I had been in darkness for so long.  Though I have no memory of continuing my pursuit I found myself in the courtyard.  I had searched for the entrance to this parcel of land time and again, having never considered that it was through the larder that I might find it. 

Moments passed as my sight adjusted to the light and my senses registered my surroundings.  I looked up to the bleak sky and watched as my breath swirled out of me and up in hot clouds.  My nose tingled as the cold air pinched my nose.  My feet crunched on the frost covered grass as I continued my pursuit; the sharp cold burning my soles with every step.

Though I had seen it from the roof on more than one occasion, it was not as I had expected as I walked across the yard, surrounded by tall stone walls.  Perhaps it was that this was merely a vision of sorts, but the courtyard seemed larger than it had from above, and across the yard Pam had stopped in front of a large stone covered in now dead climbing roses.  At the foot of this stone, laid a golden wolf.   

The wolf whined and covered his muzzle with his paws as I approached.

Pam ran a gentle hand over the animal’s fur, shushing the creature, and then raised them up to the stone, sliding under the vines and pushing them aside.  A word – five letters—were carved there. 

Taking my hand in hers she trailed my index fingers over the grooves.

 “You don’t know _what_ you don’t know, Castiel.”

 She began to use my extended finger to trace the letters. G—R—A—C “Just let it happen.  You can’t change anything, now.”  --E.

***

It was punch when it happened, like white light slamming into my head, knocking me back, sending me flying out of my body. 

No matter how I felt the previous experience had been a dream, it was nothing compared to opening my eyes and discovering I was running up the castle steps, taking them two at a time.  I was panicked, my heart beating a rapid unsteady beat as I continued my ascent.

“Anna!”  I yelled, though I didn’t.  I had not spoken a word, not one, though clearly I had, as the word came from me.  “Anna!”  I yelled again, a desperate plea, begging her to answer. 

I ran down the hall towards my – not my, _Deans_ – chambers.  The door was locked when I tried to open it.  “Anna. Open this door.” 

I charged the door, desperate to open it, terrified of what I would find on the other side. Pain shot through my shoulder as I slammed into it for a second time.

“Open the door!” I yelled. Growling, I reached inside of myself and reared the wolf I had not known was there, and charged the door again.  This time it splintered from its hold, and flew open. 

I stopped in my tracks, what I was witnessing far worse than anything I could have anticipated.  What had I thought she was doing?  I couldn’t remember, but it mattered not, now. 

My Anna was alive.  Had I been me at the time, the sight would have stopped the breath from me.  She sat before the fire slicing delicate cuts along her swollen abdomen.  The blood trickled down the bump and she used her free hand to paint it over her swell and thighs.   She was naked under the thin summer robe, thought it was still the bitter depths of winter, which she had open and thrown back revealing all of her, save her arms. 

I moved to stop her, but she raised the knife to her breast.  “Not another step.”  I stopped, holding my hands up, surrendering to her will, afraid that any movement I made would provoke her and she might follow through with her threat. 

“Anna,” I spoke again, and again, it was not by own volition.  Though this body and I were one in our fear, it was clear that I had no control beyond experiencing it.  I briefly thought on Pam’s warning, and her promise that I could change nothing, but with my sister before me, swollen with child, covered in blood and threatening to end her own life, I was incapable of heeding that warning.   I found myself fighting this body – Dean’s body, I was certain, for control, but as I fought he spoke, paying me no mind.

“Anna, can you put the knife down?  You’re scaring me.”

Noise behind me drew my attention, but I made no movement to look.  I knew by instinct—again not my own-- that it was Sam and Benny.  Another scent touched at my senses that I recognized at Jess.

“Did you know,” she snorted as she returned to her careful ministrations, this time slicing a careful line across her red of her breast.  “That during the Great Wars the Hellios warriors would rape women and then slice their breasts off so that any children conceived would starve to death.  They found this to be much more appropriate that to allow such vile creatures to raise their offspring.”

I nodded.  Though I did not know, Dean did, his thoughts becoming clearer to me the longer we were joined.  I was flooded with knowledge I had no memory of learning. We contemplated, our thoughts now becoming one, of what we might do to stop this.  Could we move fast enough to get the knife from her grasp before she slid in through her own heart?  Was it a risk we were willing to take? Were we willing to risk the life of our child?

 _Our child._  It was our child.  I knew, consciously that my tie to this life was as Anna’s brother, but Dean felt differently, and through him I.  Our pup.  The word repeated itself in our mind over and over.  A worried mantra that beat all other thought away and froze us to our place. _Our pup. Our pup. Don’t hurt our pup._

There was room for no other thought, no other planning, just panic and terror for the life that rested in the hands of a woman whose mind was clearly gone.

“Anna. Why are you doing this?”  Dean asked, his voice soft and placating, as one might be when trying to sooth a skittish animal. “I’ll give you want ever you want.  I will do whatever you demand of me.  Just, _please._ Anna.”

She looked at us then and for the first time I observed her clearly.  Her luminous red hair was now dull and matted to her head from days, perhaps weeks of no care being taken, and she was pale, much paler than she should have been.  Anna had not left this room in over a month I knew, or Dean knew, and thus I was privy to the knowledge as well. Had she slept? The heavy circles under her eyes would say that she had not.  I knew she had not eaten in days, her trays always returning to the kitchen full of the food that had been delivered to her.

“I want to go home, Dean!”

“Okay.  Alright.  Yes.  As soon as the freeze breaks, you can go back to Milton.”

“I don’t want this _thing._ ”  She gestured to her stomach with the knife.

We flinched and then swallowed, every instinct to lunge and protect.  For me there was also a need to wrap Anna up and heal whatever pain had pushed her so far, but for Dean everything around his child had faded to shades of grey – and through him, my concern for Anna began to fade. The last vestiges of love he had had for her, and there had been love, were now gone, crushed under the weight of her threat to our pup.  Whatever I had felt for Anna before was pushed aside in the need to protect the child inside of her.  I was certain, beyond any doubt, that I would hurt Anna to save my child.  I would break her bones, slice her up, and destroy her in any physical way, short of taking her life.  She was threatening my pup, and that could not stand.

“I never asked for this!”  She bellowed, as she rose to her feet, faster than she should have been able to in her condition, flailing the blade around.   I held by hands again.

“Anna.  You said ….”  _She had said,_ and she had seemed so happy about it, “that you wanted children.”

“ _Children_ , Dean!  Not his creature growing inside of me. I can feel it moving and shifting.  It’s not human! It’s a damn litter of dogs!”

We clenched our teeth against the insult, but our offense was short lived as Anna clutched at her hair with her free hand and tugged, letting out a pained sob.  “I didn’t think it was real!  No one thought it was real!  And then you bred me up like one of your pack bitches.”  She pulled the blade across her belly again, thick rivulets spilling down the deep brown of dried blood.

“I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.  Just, can you give me the knife, Anna?  And then we can start making arrangements for you to go home, like you want.”

“ _Home!”_ She scoffed and began pacing.  “You think I can go home like this?  When they find out what’s inside of me?”

“Then after.  After the pup’s born and the freeze breaks.  The moment the freeze breaks you can go back to Milton and forget all about us.” Gods, we were willing to give her anything, _anything_ , if she would just let our pup to live.

She fisted at her eyes, bringing the knife up and away from her body.  We took a chance, lunging forward, but Anna skirted back bringing the tip of the blade to the side of her distended belly.

“No!” We roared as she extended a free hand and yelled, “Stay back!”

Glancing down at the blade, Anna smirked.  “I can’t go home and I refuse to be used to breed more dogs.” 

We knew what was going to happen before it did, but even as we threw ourself toward the knife Anna tightened her fist and shoved it through her flesh.

I was thrown, the lightening shock moving me again.  The anxiety of just a moment before was gone, replaced with soul crushing sorrow.  I had not, until that moment, known there could be pain so deep.  I had thought what I felt upon the loss of Anna in those first days was grief, yet I was so very mistaken.  _This_ sorrow left a hole inside of me, deep and gaping, swallowing me into myself.

I watched Dean’s hand trail over the tiny body that lay limp on the bed beside us. She was wrapped in a soft swaddling blanket, carefully crafted by Ellen’s attentive hands, and she was perfection; pale skin with a head full of sandy hair.  We rested my hand over her, feeling for the rise and fall of the little chest that would never come.  We strained my ears to listen for her heartbeat, certain that we heard it, but choking on our own tears when the whooshing thump of our own pulse was the only rhythm being played out.

Our hand trailed to the side of her body, over the wound that lay hidden under the blanket.  The slice had been a near perfect killing blow, as though Anna could see the tiny life she intended to snuff out.  Pam had assured us that the pup would have felt very little, the cut was so swift and precise, but we suspected that Pam lied to ease our suffering.  We had seen battle wounds enough to know which were instant, and which were not.  Our daughter had suffered, and there was nothing Pam could say to convince us otherwise. 

Even if the pup did not feel the Bone Hounds pull her from this life, our pup would have felt her mother’s contempt while housed in her care. It was the bond that strengthened family and pack bonds.  But Anna had refused our mating; she could not feel her daughter as we could.  She could not sense the rabbit fast pace of her heart, or scent the subtle change of her own scent the mimicked that of our pup. Anna could not feel the contentment flooding the pack bond.  Anna would never know how much that little life growing inside of her had loved her.   

We whined and tugged her closer, wrapping around her as much as we could without crushing her.  We spread our hand over her, amazed that she could have almost fit in our hand.  Nosing at her temple, we tried to pull her scent into us.  She had a soft aroma, one that would have been calming were it not for the acrid odor of death that blanketed over it.

Our whining was cut off by a new smell that invaded the room.  We growled low, tightening our hold on our daughter. 

“Dean?”  We continued to growl, a warning to Sam not to encroach in our den, on our pup.  “Dean, I won’t touch her, I promise.”  He crouched down beside the bed, his promise to stay away from our pup, only consoling us in the slightest.

“Anna didn’t make it,” Sam said.  We growled again – still too buried in grief to articulate words.  We didn’t bother fighting the claws that forced themselves from our fingers.  Were Anna before me, rather than Sam, I would bury them into her, ripping her open, had she not already succeeded in that endeavor.

We met Sam’s eyes.  They were red and swollen; still damp from shed and unshed tears alike. “I … I have no idea what to do, Dean.   I don’t know how to help you, but it’s been two days and you can’t stay in here with her like this.”

Had it been two days?  It could have been, yes.  Hours upon hours digging down below the smell death to lose ourself in our pup’s scent.  The scents had blended together, only separated by new waves of anguish when her chest didn’t rise, or her eyes didn’t open, or the putrid fragrance of death became too thick to ignore.

“She wanted to go home,” I said, forcing the words out through fangs and past my scorched, unused throat.  “So send her home.”

***

I wasn’t pushed the final time, instead pulled away from Dean’s body, though I tried desperately to cling to him, to cling to the little infant wrapped in his arms.  I didn’t want to go, to leave Dean alone in his grief.  But my strength was no challenge to whatever rope Pam had mystically tied around me that now yanked me away and back into my own body.

I was in the courtyard then, jarred to recognition by the biting cold on my limbs. I tried to move but arms tightened around me.   _Dean,_ I knew. He was naked behind him, having shed away the golden fur that hid him before; even so, he was no cold, as I was.  Instead he burned hot against my flesh.  

As all that I had experienced began to inundate my consciousness, the chasm of grief I had been spared for a just a short few moments returned and I began to sob.  I pulled against Dean’s grip, desperate to throw myself at Grace’s grave, to dig down deep into the cold dirt and retrieve her.  Pull her up and to my breasts, hold her and warm her, breath my own life into her – trade it for hers.

I cried out, arching against the desperate need to have her back clutching at the arm crossed over my chest, but Dean only rested his check against the crown of my head as I struggled.

“Shhh,” he shushed me, “I know, I know, Cas. I know.”

I ceased my fight against Dean, sinking into his hold, and cried.


	10. Mourning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. What I had outlined just flat out did not work, and I ended up rewriting the the chapter about five times.  
> Enjoy!

Dean held me there at the grave until my sobs died to messy snuffles and whimpers of pain. It was pain, too. How had I ever thought my sorrow at Anna’s death had been grief? Dean rocked me slowly side to side, hushing me and whispering soothing words into my neck.

“I know. I know it hurts. Shhhh. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

His words did nothing to calm me, though and I curled into myself, wrapping my arms around myself. How did people survive this? I was gutted, half expecting my innards to fall from me and spill upon the ground. In response my body began to heave, attempting eject contents from my empty stomach. Dean released his hold and allowed me to fall to my hands and knees.

He rubbed circles on my back as I arched and choked and cried out, until my body was too tired to continue in that way. Pressing my forehead to the ground I covered my head with my arms. “What did you do to me? Why?”

“You had to know, Cas. I’m so sorry, but you had to know. You wouldn’t have believed me if I told you.”

I clawed at the frozen ground. I had not been able to say good-bye to her. I had no memory of her tiny body being lowered into the ground and covered with dirt?

I must have voiced this, because Dean answered me. “We don’t normally bury our dead. All that’s under there are her ashes.” I moaned at the knowledge. “We allow the wind to carry them to the Great Pack Lands, but I … I couldn’t let her go.”

His voice broke and I turned to see eyes that were wet and red rimmed from unshed tears.

I do not know how long we stayed there at the grave of our daughter. Could I call her that? To myself I would, I could call her nothing else, because it felt as though she were. I had sensed her presence, I _still_ sensed it, the memories holding tight and vivid. She was mine, though I did not carry her in my own body, she was mine.

My mind drifted away to memories of her small body held close to me. Of her scent and feel. The world around me fell away and all sense of time and place vanished. I did not feel numbness of fingers and toes, or the shake of my body from the shock and cold until Dean lifted me off the ground and carried me to my room.

A warm bath was already set up, and I wondered briefly at how long my mind had drifted.

Dean began stripping my soiled clothing from my body. I jerked away from him as he did.

“I’m not gonna hurt ya, Cas. I promise.” He pulled the tunic over my head and began unlacing my leggings. Lowering my eyes, I followed his hands, not trusting his words, nor my own eyes. Dean should not be alive, and yet he was.

In my grief I had forgotten my condition, but as the frozen urine and other bodily _stuff_ began to break apart with every tug of my foul leggings, the smell hit my nose and I gagged against it. I tried to muster embarrassment or even anger, but like my toes, I was numb.

Dean crouched in front of me, gently pulling my feet free, and I felt – nothing. Any anger I had felt for the wolf was gone. I wanted to be angry at him for locking me away. I wanted to be frightened of him – any man who could raise from the dead was certainly something to be feared, but I did not fear him.

Perhaps there was no more room left for me to feel naught but my grief, but that too had abandoned me. I reached out for it, seeking sadness to fill the emptiness, to swallow me up. I would lose myself in it; feel nothing more than the memory of my child.

Distantly I could still hear the sound of Deans words, and feel his touch and warmth that burned at me, but I the smell of my daughter was in my lungs and the feel of her body pulled next to mine still warmed me. These were the things I chose to experience, all else was pushed away.

The world around me had lost its focus, blurred into a mess of barely recognizable shapes and colors when I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. It paced just past my sight, more of a shadow with no real shape or mass, but it came closer with each switchback. I knew I should have feared it, but the hallow darkness offered me a release I was more than willing to accept. Reaching out for it I beckoned it to approach and its form became clearer, as though my welcome empowered it. It’s muzzle snarled and sniffed in wolf like motions. Could this have been the same hound that took Grace to the Great Pack Lands?

What an odd thought to have. Were there other things I could know from my time sharing Dean’s memories? I decided it did not matter. This creature would take me to my Grace, and that was all I needed to know.  

I heard my name, a quiet whisper, but forceful enough to make me wonder if it was my ancestors calling me to join them, and I know I smiled.

They roared for me, making the water around my body ripple around me. _I was in water?_ The roar grew stronger, vibrating through me like an alpha’s command, rattling my very bones and stopping my breath.

The Bone Hound’s shadow began to whimper and recede back into the blur of colors. I cried out to it, begging it not to leave me. As it faded from my sight the world shattered around me, and I began to thrash and scream.

“Calm down,” Dean ordered, his Alpha Command too strong to my weakened spirit to be denied, and I stilled in his hold, my limbs sinking below the stilling water.

“Shhhh, stay with me, Cas,” he crooned in my ear, as he petted at my wet hair. “Please, stay with me.”

***

I was lost after that. Everything I had thought I knew was proven false in the wake of these new memories. No longer could I blame Dean for his actions toward Anna, she had lost her mind and murdered my child – his child. Dean’s child. My niece. I must even to this day remind myself that Grace was not _mine,_ as futile a fight as it may be.

I stopped speaking. It wasn’t a conscious decision; I simply had nothing to say. That is not to say that there were not questions burning to be asked. I was brimming with questions, and that was the problem. Where would I start? How would I start? I had tried to ask a few times, only for the words to catch in my throat and my well thought out question faded from my memory before it could leave my mouth.

People would try to engage me in some form of conversation, but I often ignored them, or walked away when my mind began drift to other things. They stopped when I became caught in thoughts of Grace, a hard wave of grief crashing over me so suddenly that began to sob uncontrollably. There were awkward stares, and pitying glances.

I retired to my room and refused leave.

In hindsight, perhaps it was my absence that ceased the incessant attempts at dialogue and not the resignation of Dean’s pack. Regardless, I buried myself beneath my covers and refused to engage, only leaving my room when night came and silence would fall over the dark castle. When that time arrived I would slip from my warm cave and stumble on unused legs to the courtyard.

Dean would inevitably find me, huddled in front of Grace’s stone, tracing over the letters that hand sent me so far away from myself. He would silently lift me into his arms and return me to my bed, where he would tuck me under my covers and lay behind me, wrapping an arm around my middle and command me, “Sleep.”

He was always gone when I awoke.

On one particular night, Dean caught me before I could make it to the courtyard.

“Going somewhere?” He asked from his seat, leaning back in the chair; his feet propped on the table that Ellen had chastised Sam for sitting on.

I looked down at my feet in response. We both knew my destination. I decided then and there that I despised rhetorical questions. They served no purpose.

The chair scraped on the floor as Dean rose from his seat and approached me. He cupped my face and tilted my head up, forcing me to look him in the eye.

“There isn’t any amount of lying on that grave that is going to bring her back, Cas. I’m talking from experience here.”

 _I know that._ I wanted to say, jerk away from his hold and yell at him that I wasn’t stupid; I knew I couldn’t bring her back. Hell, I knew she wasn’t even there. Ashes, that’s all that was left. I blinked at him. He looked so distraught. _How dare you!_ I raged in my own mind. _You did this to me! You made me feel this way! How dare you pity me_! If only the words could escape my mind and flow out of me to lay a verbal assault at his feet. Instead, I stood there, limp in hold and averted my gaze.

Dean released me, sighing. He pinched the bridge of his nose before taking my hand and leading me back to my bed.

“Please don’t do this anymore, Cas,” he said as he imprisoned me in hold again. “Sleep.”

Forbidden to go to Grace’s grave, there was no other reason to leave my bed, save for the most basic of bodily functions, but even then I would hold myself until the familiar silence fell again.

I stopped eating then. Food had not been one of my priorities, but I had managed a nibble here and there, and I would drink water, but the idea of food now made me gag. Meg would come into my room, see my full plate and swear, “Damnit, Clarence!” and then stomp out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I couldn’t find the strength to care.

When she came in and didn’t curse, I was tempted to emerge from my cocoon and see what she was doing. I couldn’t trust her silence. Hearing her shuffle about, I remained still. She lifted the blankets and slipped under with me.

I grunted and shifted away. Her features were just visible under the covers, and I could make out that she was seeking out my eyes. When I allowed mine to lock with hers, she began to speak.

“Once upon a time,” she began, “in a kingdom far away, there lived an Alpha. He was a good alpha, kind and loved by all, but he was lonely and sought his mate. He found her in the daughter of a pack alpha. She was fair and beautiful; known for her strength and wisdom. The Good Alpha quickly won her heart, and they were mated. But in a distant kingdom there was a prince, the brother of a foreign king, who had wanted the woman for his own. He desired her wolf blood to strengthen his line and was furious when she chose the Good Alpha instead.

“Years passed, and the Alpha Mate bore the Good Alpha two strong alpha sons, both of whom were as good and wise as their parents. The foreign prince became ever more jealous as the pups grew. His own mate had born him only a beta son and a daughter, dying upon the birth of the latter. He was unhappy with his life and blamed the Alpha Mate. So one day he visited the Good Alpha under the guise of diplomacy. Put at ease by the foreign prince’s kind words and jovial manner, the pack let their guard down. The prince waited until late in the night, when the Alpha Mate had retired to bed and the Good Alpha was talking and joking with his pack, and then made his way to the Alpha Mate’s room.

“Her screams brought the pack running, but they were too late. The flames had completely consumed her bed, and there was nothing left to do, save put her out of her misery. It was the Good Alpha himself who slid his claws over her throat, silencing her anguished screams.

“The Alpha Heir, barely more than a boy himself tracked the prince deep into Purgatory, a land fraught with cannibals and all other manner of creature. A drinker of blood, desperate for escape, aided the Alpha Heir in exchange for shelter in his pack. They returned to the Pack Lands, the blood of the fallen prince still caked on their flesh.

“Shamed by his brother’s actions, the Foreign King, offered the Good Alpha the prince’s children as slaves, as he had no use for their weak and soiled blood. The Good Alpha accepted the offer. The boy threw himself from the tower, rather than be given to the wolves. The girl, barely five years old, had no idea what was happening. She arrived in the strange kingdom and stood before this large alpha and his two sons. The Good Alpha stared at the girl for long minutes before lifting her onto his knee, and saying, ‘You are a Winchester now. You are Pack.’”

I considered her words, imagining the sort of man the Good Alpha must have been to show such kindness. Meg must have been allowing me time to digest her story, because she spoke again after a while.

“Did you know that in the Pack Lands, omegas are revered? Practically worshipped even.”

I shook my head. I was not, in fact aware of this.

“It’s true. Dean’s chronicler, this really squirrelly guy, Chuck, is an omega. Imagine, an omega trusted to chronicle the entirety of the Winchester history. Entrusted with the careful writing of treaties. What’s even more, Dean’s most trusted advisor is an omega. Dean trusts him so much he allowed him to accompany his mate to the boarder and act in his stead as Alpha while he’s there.”

I wasn’t certain I believed that.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you, Castiel?” The use of my proper name jarred me and drew the fullness of my attention. “Two of the most powerful wolves in all the Pack Lands are omegas. You have a chance here, an opportunity that no other omega in Milton or Hellios have. Don’t squander it.”

She took my hand in hers. “I’m not saying that you should not mourn. I remember what Dean was like when she died, and I can’t even imagine. You’ve both lost a loved one, and murdered the one you deemed responsible. You have both lost a child and mourned her loss. You’re even now, and I promise you, you will find no place safer than with Dean Winchester. He is a good man, better even than his father. He will protect you, he will watch over you. He will worship you, and all you have to do, is it let him.”

Meg dropped my hand and climbed from my bed, taking the blankets with her. “So get up, drink something, eat something, for the love of the gods bathe, and if you tell anyone we had this conversation I will personally find strange and horrific ways to torture you.” She pulled the door closed behind her, not once looking back.

Alone again, I contemplated what I had learned. Meg had given me a great deal to think about, and had touched on – well, everything. And she was right. Dean had showed me nothing but kindness, save that incident on the day I arrived. He had fed me, clothed me, given me occupations, and when I killed him, he forgave me. Although, I suspect he may have used the shared memories, in part at least, as a punishment.

I still felt Grace’s loss like blade in my belly, but what good was I doing her? The Good Alpha had carried on when his mate was murdered. Dean had carried on when Grace had died. Could I conscionably do less?

I felt no different than I did before, but Meg had given me, not a reason, per say, but certainly a spark of motivation. So I pulled myself up, poured myself some water, and drank.

***

Giving Dean a chance meant facing him, and that wasn’t something I was prepared to do face to face. Having found the cover of night to offer me a modicum of protection, I once again waited to make my way to his rooms.

Thinking that I had been sly enough, I snuck into his room and crossed to his bed on tip toes.

“You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” he mumbled, not even doing me the courtesy of opening his eyes. “Did you come to finish me off, omega?”

“No.” The word was little more than a croak from my unused throat. I tentatively pulled the covers up and knelt on the bed. Dean shifted over to make room for me holding the covers back further. I should not have been shocked, but I was, to discover that Dean slept naked. He raised a challenging brow at me. _I dare you,_ it seemed to say.

Defiant to the end, I accepted the challenge and crawled the rest of the way into the bed, allowing Dean to cover me. He didn’t touch, though, so I took his hand and wrapped it around my body, burying my nose in his chest. “Hold me, alpha.”

Dean enveloped me up in his arms, and pressed a kiss to my temple. “Sleep,” he whispered.

And I did.  

 

 

 


	11. Kept

“How are you still alive?”

When I spoke the words they were barely above a whisper in the too quiet room.  Dean tightened his hold on my body and snuffled at my neck.  The rising sun cast a misty hue into the room as it filtered its way through the heavy hide that blocked the cold air from flowing freely through the window. 

He had not asked me to leave after that first night, and as such I had chosen to stay, finding a sort of comfort in our kindred grief. We had both lost Grace, and I suspected that having someone who could truly understand how wholly devastating it was, soothed him somewhat as well.  

Though the courage to venture out among wolves still escaped me, I had taken to standing at the window that overlooked the village below and would watch Dean as he worked with the pack to prepare for the Freeze.  He would often catch my gaze and smile up at me. I would wave in return and step back away from the window, contenting to occupy myself with needlework Jessica had provided to me, or books Sam insisted I study.  He was relentless in his resolve that I should read well.

Dean shrugged against me.  “I’m the Alpha,” he mumbled, still half asleep. 

“That doesn’t tell me anything, though. To me that is no different than being a king.”  Dean snorted at the term.  “But I know no difference.  How does being an Alpha make you impervious to death?”

“I’m not impervious to it, and it’s not being an alpha that’s important, it’s that I’m _the_ Alpha.”  He was silent for few short moments, adjusting his hold on my body, and breathing in my scent. His erection pressed against the back of my thighs and he made no move to conceal his arousal.  “It’s hard to explain if you don’t know what it is to be Pack. We’re connected -- all of us.  Each wolf to their Alpha and in turn each Alpha to me. I can feel them and they can feel me. I draw strength from my packs and they draw strength from me.”

“But how?”

“How do you breathe?” He asked. “Describe it to me.”

Though I knew he was making some sort of point, it made little sense to me. “I breathe in and then out,” I answered.

“But how?”

“I just …” I knew the basic mechanics of the act. I took air into me and let it out again.  I had lungs that filled, yes, but I had no real idea _how_ they worked.

“I don’t know,” I finally said. “Do you?”

He smiled against my skin. “No. But it’s the same idea.  I can tell you that the stronger and bigger my pack is, the stronger I am. I can tell _what_ happened, but not how or why exactly.  I breathed in and I breathed out.”

If he had been so strong as to thwart death, could he not have leant that strength?  Could he have saved Grace?  I asked this of him, and his answer came in a choked whisper.

 “No.  Do you think for one moment that had I been able to save her that I wouldn’t have?”

He trailed his fingers down my arm and entwined his fingers with mine and I pulled them to my chest, holding him as tightly as he was holding me.

 “Why did you show me all that?”

Dean sighed.  “Why did you kill me?”

I moved to turn over and once again accuse him of killing Anna, but the words died on my lips.  He hadn’t killed Anna, had he?  He had packed her and sent her back to Milton, but even I could not say my actions would have been kinder given the circumstances.  Laying there in his arms I still felt the need to force violence upon my sister, as though the punishment of death and bodily disrespect were not enough. 

“Exactly,” Dean whispered, seeming to hear my thoughts.  “Every action you have taken has been to avenge your sister. Now you know.”

“But why?”

He didn’t answer me.  I let the silence stretch for a while longer before I decided to speak again. “Can everyone in the Pack Lands turn into wolves?”

Dean flopped onto his back with a groan.  “Oh, for the love of … Are you one of those people that enjoy having long drawn out conversations while your bedmate is trying to sleep.”

“I wouldn’t know,” I said turning over to face him, and trying to fight a smile at his antics. “You’re the first bedmate I’ve ever had. Besides, the sun it up.”

He covered his head with a pillow.  “No it’s not.  You’re imagining things. You back to sleep.”

“Dean, I don’t want …” He pressed a finger to my lips. 

“Shhhh.”  The sound was muffled under the heavy down of the pillow. “Good boy,” he said, patting my head.

I lowered myself back down, resting my head on his bare chest and attempted to sleep.  It was a futile attempt as my mind raced with questions and curious thoughts, as was often the case when I found myself with nothing to occupy my time.  I had no idea how long I had been in mourning for our daughter, but all my thoughts in waking and dreaming moments had been consumed by Grace.

Now though, after several days of forced and awkward conversation, and even more awkward nights; where our bodies were pressed against each other and the waves of lust were so heavy in the air that even my dull senses could smell it-- my mind was alive again. Not just questions of Dean’s seemingly miraculous survival, or the vision that was thrust upon me, but all those thoughts that I had forced to the back of my mind; the doubts and questions that my blind loyalty and unwavering devotion had swept from my mind.

I had been in Winchester for the better part of two months and this “Freeze” had yet to arrive, though with the increased focus on preparations it was clear that it was closing in on us. When Sam had told me that if Michael didn’t come for me by the Freeze, that I would have no choice but to remain for the duration of the winter, I had not anticipated how far off the Freeze was. 

 _Two months_. It had taken only a few days for Sam to carry me from Milton to Winchester Castle, so how could it take more than a month for word to arrive from Michael? Even a missive from Helios demanding that I be delivered unharmed to my promised alpha – or a declaration washing their hands of me all together, would not have been so long in the making. 

It wasn’t really a question any longer, though, was it? Michael’s response had been received as loud and clear as if he had strode into the Great Hall and made his declaration aloud.  Even with all evidence pointing to the contrary, I fought to deny it, and fought against my own drive as I struggled not to put voice to my concerns.  I didn’t want to know.

Only I _did_ want to know more.

“He’s not coming for me is he?  Michael, I mean.” I tried to keep the shudder out of my voice, and mentally kicked myself for asking this question so close on the heels of everything else.

Dean was silent for so long that I thought he had fallen back asleep. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest under my cheek was steady and lulling me to drowsiness when his answer came.

“No.”

So that was it then, I thought.  I knew on some level that I was not as significant or as important as Anna.  She was worth a war, after all.  I knew that assumptions would be made about my “virtue.”  But I had also known, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that my brother would come for me.  That he would bring the full wrath of Milton down upon Winchester in a whirlwind of fury.  In my imaginings it had been as such. Fanciful day dreams of a child, but they were what they were.  Michael, leading the charge, with Gabriel on his left and Crowley on his right. The whole of two armies coming to my rescue.

I had, until that day in the court yard, envisioned approaching Michael, my back straight and my head held high, declaring that I had taken the life of the Winchester Alpha. That I, an omega, had avenged our sister’s death.  That I had won the Pack Lands for him.   

I had been a fool. My days would be whittled away now, shaped by the hospitality and charity of my captors – if they deemed to keep me. I was, I knew, theirs to do with as they pleased now.  With the words spoken aloud I was no longer a pawn in whatever political game they were playing.  Not even worth my brother’s time to write a letter.

Dean would not turn me out; he would not have put so much effort into converting my opinion were that his intention.  I did not fear for my survival or safety, not really, but I could not help the unease that began to settle into my stomach. Being at the mercy of others did not sit well with me.

It would be different were I in Milton.  As an Omega Prince it was my place to be cared for until a suitable political marriage could arranged, and then as Crowley’s Omega I would have earned my place by giving him many alpha sons, and keeping the alliance solid. 

What did I have to offer Dean Winchester?  He earned no allegiances by keeping me in the Pack Lands.  I was, for lack of a better description, a drain on resources and had no skills to offer that could be in any way considered a contribution.

So while I did not think Dean would turn me out to fend for myself, I was comfortable with the idea of being simply kept, not unlike a pet.

But … I thought, _but_ , I did have something, didn’t I? Rebecca had told me as much.  Describing what became of omegas that had no alpha. Their bodies being their only thing of any worth were purchased and used, traded for money, or food, or shelter.

If Michael was not coming for me … If I was not to be married to Hellios after all … If my reputation as a virtuous omega was already in ruins …

I tilted my head to look at Dean’s face.  He as lazily brushed his fingers over my shoulder as he stared up at the ceiling.  I watched his blonde eyelashes as they brushed against his cheek on each deliberate blink.  He was incredibly beautiful, I decided, soft and boyish in a way that gave him an adorable sort of charm. He was not a cruel man, no matter how awful that first impression had been, and I truly did not fear he would be unkind to me. He did not have it in him, I think.

Swallowing down my nerves, I ran light touches down Dean’s sternum, stroking lightly over a pink nipple that pebbled under the touch.  Dean gasped at the touch, but made no move to stop me and his breath hitched as I slid my hand under the sheet. 

I twirled my fingers around in the course bed of curls around his cock before trailing my fingers over the half hard shaft.

“Cas?”  His voice was rough breathy as he spoke.  I wrapped my hand around him and gave a cursory tug.  He caught my wrist in his grip and held me still. “You don’t have to do this, Cas. I don’t expect this from you.”

“I know,” I answered. “I want to.”  I met his eyes and saw the doubt there.  Releasing him, I pulled myself up. “If Michael is not coming for me, if I am to remain here, then what was the point of remaining true to a betrothed I will never be claimed by? Why deny myself that which my body so clearly desires.”

I took his hand and guided it under my garments to my quickly dampening crack. Dean press in deeper, groaning as a finger touched my hole. I couldn’t help but shudder at the touch as more slick trickled out of me.

“Fu--- Cas.”

“Do you still want me?” I was trying my best not to sound timid at the prospect of his rejection. I wasn’t certain I could handle the humiliation.

He didn’t answer with words, instead flipping me onto my back and fitting himself between my legs.  “Off,” he growled tugging my tunic over my head. He threw the fabric to the side and then took my mouth with his. I arched into him, pressing our members together, groaning and panting in wanton need. He tightened his hand around my thigh, pulling my leg up and rolling harder against me.

The alpha trailed hot, wet kisses down my neck and chest, biting at one nipple and then the next.  I had no idea that such an action could be so … I have no words, only to say my body was shaking from need and my cock was so hard it hurt.  I called his name, burying my fingers in his hair as he continued his assault down my belly.  When Dean swallowed me down into his mouth, I lost all sense of myself and could only imagine how I must have sounded.  I know I yelled. I know I thrust up into his mouth, pressing him down with my hands.  I know that any release I had before paled in comparison to spilling down Dean’s throat and feeling him swallow everything emptied into him.

When my prick was spent and soft in his mouth, Dean once again kissed me, my own taste still fresh and bitter on his lips.  He chuckled into the kiss.  “You have a filthy mouth when you come.”

“I have a filthy mouth? Do you know where your mouth was just at?”

He pressed into my groin. “You didn’t like it?”

“I did, Alpha.”

 I kissed him, wrapping my arms over his shoulders and pulling him down.  I tried, even I my blissed state, to keep my mind clear. He had brought me to my conclusion, but was unsatisfied himself.  If I were resolved to be of use to my new alpha, then I had to be of worth.

That is not to say that I was not scared, or that I took my decision lightly.  I was terrified, and knew the repercussions.  I won’t lie and say that culmination of the past several weeks had no influence over my decision.  I know it most certainly did.  I was far too sad, and far too angry and far too lonely to have made any other choice in the matter. But the choice was mine. I had made it, and I refused to back down from it.

“I want you inside me, Alpha,” I whispered against his ear, and Dean moaned atop me, biting lightly at my shoulders, then kissed me again, licking into my mouth.

 “Look at me and say it.  I need you to say it.”

For the first time since meeting the woman, I was thankful for Meg’s over explicit explanation of “the birds and the bees.” At first I had thought her conversation to be for shock, and I am certain a great deal of it was, but now I think perhaps it was bit more altruistic than I had first estimated. I found the words falling from my lips as though they were instinct, only mildly afraid I would be embarrassing myself with such language.

“Knot me, Alpha. Please.”

He growled and lifted me off the bed, settling me onto his lap, his cock slipping through my slick. I wrapped my legs around his waist and felt the tip of his cock nudging at my hole.  Dean reached under me and held himself still with one hand and slowly began to lower me down with the other.

“Fuck. Fuck. Cas,” he gasped against me, while I hissed with every inch I was lowered.  He was bigger than the dilldoughs I had been presented with, thicker and unlike the solid mass that I had rode during my heat, Dean filled me as though his member conformed to my insides. Perhaps it was I that formed around it, but it matters not, because we fit perfectly and entirely, and once he was bottomed out inside of me, I found myself begging him to take me over completely. 

Dean held me tight as he lifted and lowered me on his prick, slowly at first, my forehead tilted against his, breathing in his breath, as he muttered endearments. “So beautiful. So perfect. Perfect Omega. Wanted you for so long. All mine. Mine.”

We continued to roll into each other; our bodies pressed together, my own erection alive again between our bodies, the friction teasing it with the promise of another orgasm.  When Dean thrust and hit _that_ spot inside of me, I yelped in unexpected pleasure. 

“There it is,” Dean chuckled, “right there.” He thrust again, and again hit it, and began a slow and precise assault on my insides. I clawed at his back, scrabbling and scrambling against him, trying to move myself, to thrust and bounce, but he held me firm, moving me at an almost painful pace.

“Please, alpha. Please,” I gasped into his mouth, and he kissed me again as his knot began push against at my rim. I was spread so open on him, as I stretched and burned. My mumblings indecipherable now.

His knot popped past my ring and I buried my face in his neck. 

“Don’t,” he growled, tilting my head up so he could look into my eyes. “I want to see you when you come. Come for me, Cas. Come on.”  His command was Alpha enough to send me over the edge of what was building and I _came._   It was hard, and long, and the world whited around the edges as he began filling me full.

When I came back to myself, Dean’s back was pressed against the headboard and I was still wrapped around him.  I tried to shift my weight only to have shock of pleasure curl through my body as his knot jolted inside of me, and he groaned into my neck, and then laughed as my gasps slowed.

“You laugh at me a lot,” I complained. It came out more as a croak, my throat raw from … I blushed. 

He tugged at my hair, tilting my head to the side before kissing me soundly. “You’re so damned adorable.”

I shifted my body again and smiled in satisfaction after we both moaned, satisfied that I had been successful in my endeavors.

“If you keep doing that, my knot will never go down.”  He pulled me close until my head lie on his chest. “Try to rest, Cas.  We’re going to be here for a while.” 

I fell asleep easily in his arms, his knot still pumping me full. It shouldn’t have been as soothing as it was, but for the first time I could ever remember in my life – I was content.

***

A howl broke through my sleep and I jolted awake, sitting upright in the bed. Dean pressed a kiss to my temple. “No worries, little omega, it’s just some riders. If it was danger I’d know.”

“How can you tell?”

Dean was already out of bed and slipping into his breeches. He smirked, “I’m the Alpha.”  He grasped the back of my neck, pulling me into a rough kiss. “Try to get some more sleep,” he ordered, before leaving me alone.

I did try to sleep.  I curled under the warm covers, buried my nose in his pillow to chase his scent. But the dull ache in my body forced sleep to elude me, and I resigned myself to lie in bed and listen to the sounds of people beginning to mill about outside, and the bustle of activity as our arrivals were welcomed, a gentle murmur that I reveled in.

“Castiel!”   The murmur shifted in an instant, and the familiar call of my name was followed by Dean’s call, “You can’t just go in there!” Before the door to our room burst open. 

There were a hundred thoughts that ran through my mind in that moment. Shame and guilt for doubting my brother. Humiliation for giving myself over so quickly the moment that doubt reared itself. Fear of what he would think of me. But most surprising of all was terror knotting in my stomach at the idea that I would be taken away from Dean.

Because standing in the doorway, staring at me with abject horror and fury was Gabriel.

 

 

 

 


	12. Screw That!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hallelujah! A new chapter. This one about near killed me. Have I mentioned how much I love my beta!

I bit my lip, torn between the urge to leap from my sheets naked to embrace my brother, or dig my nails into the bed and refuse to leave.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes, growling low.  Digging my nails in the bed it was, then.

“Winchester!” He yelled, as he turned away from my door. Dean was already there behind him, and met my eyes over Gabriel’s shoulder. I was calmed for only a moment before my brother shoved Dean.

“You promised to keep him safe!”

Dean moved faster than I thought possible, wrapping his hand around Gabriel’s throat and shoving him against the door frame, his growl so low and threatening that I whimpered at its sound and sought safety in the blankets.

“It’s not what you’re thinking, Gabe.”

I peeked out from under the covers, watching Gabriel struggle against Dean’s hold, his hands struggling to pry the alpha’s grip loosen. He shifted his weight, trying to find purchase on the floor where his feet where barely touching. His face was changing color, the deep red giving way to purple.

Dean was going to kill him, he was going to squeeze the life out of my brother as easily as Benny had ripped the life from Rebecca, and that little girl had shook the life from that rabbit, the day I spent with Garth.  I was choking on my own fear, silently sobbing under the blankets.

The kindness that I had been shown since arriving in the Pack Lands had made me forget how brutal and volatile alphas could be if they felt threatened.  Gabriel had defied Michael only once – that I am aware of, refusing to submit when it was demanded of him, and Michael had been far less kind to Gabriel than he had been with me. I doubted Dean would be any more merciful with his enemy than Michael had been with his brother.

Maybe, I thought, maybe, Dean would spare him for _me._ Perhaps, I thought, the use of my body was enough to warrant a mild mercy for my brother. I pushed the words past the lump in my throat, forcing them out in a choked whisper.

“Alpha, please don’t hurt him.” Dean looked at me over his shoulder, his features contorted in that strange canid way I had yet to get used to.  He snuffed at me, but loosened his grip on Gabriel, allowing him to slide down and suck in a much needed breath. He coughed and tried to move away, but Dean reasserted his grip just enough to keep Gabriel in place.

“Submit,” Dean growled.

“Screw you, Winchester, you promised.”

Gabriel’s outburst was met with another growl.  Dean looked at me again. “Have I hurt you?”

“No, Alpha,” I said. He hadn’t hurt me, save for that first meeting. 

“Have I kept you safe?”

“Yes, Alpha.”

He turned back to Gabriel. “Submit.”

I found myself praying silently, over and over, _submit, submit, submit._   There was no way for me to know what would happen were Gabriel not to submit to Dean; what little sway I held extended only so far.

Gabriel kept his fixed with Dean’s for another few moments before averting his eyes and tilting his head.  My relief came in a sob as Dean ran his thumb over the exposed jugular, marking my brother as _his._

Dean stepped back, looking from Gabriel to me and then back again. “Spend some time with your brother.  We meet in an hour to debrief.” He lingered long enough to give me a small smile, and then left closing the door behind him.

I was out of the bed and clinging to Gabriel like a limpet before the door clicked shut.

“You came!” I yelled, “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

“What, I didn’t think I’d leave you stuck here all alone forever, did you?”

I squeezed him into another tight hug, and scented his neck. The almost sickly sweet smell was dulled with an overlay of Dean’s pack scent; something I had only recently began to realize everyone shared.

“Not that I haven’t missed you little brother, but do you think you could you maybe put some clothes on, because this getting more awkward by the moment.”

I leaped back, suddenly aware of my nakedness.  Gabriel covered his eyes as I scrambled around the floor looking for the tunic Dean had haphazardly discarded the night before.

“I can’t find my tunic,” I said.

“For the love of God, Cassie, use a sheet. I don’t need to see … are those bruises?”

Wrapping the sheet around me, I gave him a quizzical look.  He pulled the sheet away from my mid section and pointed to the purple markings around my hips and waist. I yanked the sheet from his hand and tucked it back around my body and looked away, trying to hide the flush I could feel heating my cheeks.

My brother sighed, and pulled me back into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Cassie.”

“It’s not your fault,” I mumbled against his neck.

He didn’t respond, only stood there holding me, petting at my mussed hair and scenting me in return.

***

Gabriel had arrived with an older, bearded omega that Dean called Bobby.  Dean introduced him to me as his advisor.  Even though Meg had told me as much, I couldn’t help the shock of finding it true. I turned to Gabriel, expecting a similar reaction. Though I supposed he had time to get used to the idea of a well educated and relatively powerful omega, as he had been brought the full distance from the Milton boarder by the omega.

The three of us stood outside of Dean’s chancery, waiting on Benny and someone Dean referred to as “Chuck.”  It was awkward, and I had no idea why Dean insisted that I stay put.  Every time I inched away he would move closer and growl so quietly I thought at first he was purring. By the time Benny had arrived, Bobby had rolled his eyes so many times I thought they might fly out of his head.

I hadn’t seen Benny in weeks, as I had been deliberately avoiding everyone, save those that had forced their way into my presence.  He approached me with a smile, which I returned readily enough.  He reached out to lay a hand on my arm. Dean moved in front of me and snarled at the other alpha.  Benny lifted his hands in surrender and backed away. I stepped toward him, only to have him step back.

The tension broke as small, squirrely man came running down the hall, scrolls and papers stuffed haphazardly in his arms, falling about everywhere. 

“I’m here! I’m here!”  He called out, passing by me and running into the chancery.  My nose tingled as his scent hit me. _Omega._   I have no idea what my reaction was, but it must have been something to see, because there was no way I wasn’t jaw on the floor stunned.  I could not wrap my mind around it. Omega’s, doing things that mattered, and treating their Alpha like he was equal to them.

Bobby rolled his eyes again as Chuck tripped on his own feet and all the papers went flying.  He then turned his gaze to Dean and me and eyed me up and down. He cuffed Dean on the neck, calling him an “idjit,” before turning away and shouting behind him at the alpha, “When you’re done pissing in a circle around him, you might want to actually join me and find out why the hell we’re here.”

I paced outside of a room where Dean was holed up with Gabriel, Benny, Chuck and Bobby.

I was only hearing bits and pieces of what filtered through the heavy door, usually only when Dean yelled “son of a bitch.”  I leaned my ear to the door, trying to make out anything that I could fit together into a coherent conversation.

“Really, Clarence? This is what you’re lowering yourself to.”  Meg crossed her arms in front of her, a glare on her face.  I would have felt duly chastised, had I not spotted the cups in her hand.  I smiled wide and Meg rolled her eyes, handing me one of the cups.  “You are such a horrible influence on me.”

“My deepest condolences.”

She twitched her nose. “You smell like sex.”

“You don’t. Again, my deepest condolences.”

“Omega has jokes, now.”

I smirked at her as we both pressed our cups to the door.  Her eyes sparkled in amusement and I realize with a gleeful shock, that I had a friend.  I’d never had a friend before, not counting my own family, and the pleasure I took from the camaraderie warmed me.

_“How could it possibly get worse?”_ Dean snapped, drawing my attention back to my illicit behavior.

When someone answered, it was Gabriel. _“The Leviathans are negotiating with Hellios and Milton for an alliance.”_

_“Well that ain’t good,”_ Benny answered. 

_“So much for neutrality,”_ Chuck added.

_“Yeah, well, they’ve always been more for opportunity. They’re gonna do what serves ‘em.”_ Benny sounded annoyed.

I didn’t know much about the Leviathans, only that they lived in Purgatory, a country that stretched between Hellios and Milton, and I only knew this because we were to travel through Purgatory to reach Hellios.

_“It’s going to be nearly impossible to fortify all three boarders.  Milton, no problem. Milton and Hellios, doable.  But all three?_ Dean said.

_“And the Leviathans can give any wolf a solid fight – they might even be able to win.”_  Bobby grunted out.

_“Son of a Bitch,”_ Dean shouted as the sound of heavy objects being overturned, and breaking against the floor echoed through the door. 

Meg reached out and clutched my wrist as I jumped back, frightened. She shook her head, and then raised her finger to her lips.  There was silence for a few moments that stretched on and on.

_“Alright. Bobby – what do you suggest?”_

_“If Michael’s married Lilith…”_

_“He has,”_ Gabriel interrupted.

_“If Michael’s married to Lilith,”_ Bobby stopped, and I could almost hear him challenging Gabriel to interrupt him again.  I smiled, taking a particular pleasure his listening to Gabriel being placed by an omega. _“Then they will probably try to make at least one offensive attack from Hellios before the freeze…We still have a few weeks, so we should strike first … here.”_

_“Alright.”_ Dean’s voice had shifted from the frustrated annoyance of earlier to the clear decisive and determined voice of an Alpha. _“Bobby, I want you to put out the call.  I don’t want to pull anyone from the Milton Boarder; we’ll need more wolves for the Hellios attack. Benny, you and Sam put together a small pack, I want our boarder with Purgatory to be patrolled until the freeze.  If the leviathans make a move before the thaw, I want to be prepared. Gabriel.  You and I have some things to discuss …”_

There was a chorus of, _“Yes, Alpha,”_ and then Meg was pulling me away from the door and several feet away as it opened.  We tried to look as inconspicuous as possible – so naturally we were quite obvious.  Bobby was the first to exit the room; he looked at the cups in our hands, which we had forgotten to hide.  I shoved mine behind my back and the old omega huffed and made an attempt to look annoyed, but a slight tilt of a smile played on his lips, before he moved down the hall. 

I decided I liked Bobby.

Benny followed close behind the older omega, meeting my eyes for only a moment before looking away.  He nodded, and then headed to attend to his assignment. I peeked into the room and saw Dean staring down at the remaining omega, who was scribbling furiously on his papers.

“Hey, Chuck?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think you could maybe finish that somewhere else?”

Chuck blinked up at Dean, “You do know this is the Chancery, right?”

“I am aware.”

“You do know I’m your scribe, right?”

“I vaguely remember assigning you that task.”

Dean was smirking now, and I couldn’t help have a similar reaction.

“Soooo…”

“So I, as your Alpha, would like to utilize your office, without your permission.”

“Fine.”  He dropped his quill onto the half finished sheet, and started shoveling a handful of papers back into his arms. “I’ll just go … somewhere else.”

I bit my lip, in an attempt to keep from laughing.  I was half in awe of the way Dean addressed his omegas, or more precisely, the way they addressed him.  Even though Meg had explained that we were held in high esteem, I hadn’t been able to understand the degree that that esteem reached.  These omegas weren’t just holding positions of importance and respect, these omegas were his _friends._ More than anything, it was that which bewildered me the most.

“Meg,” Dean followed Chuck out, I need you to take Castiel back to my room, and then start moving all of his belongings over, he’ll be staying with me from here on out.”

Dean cupped my cheek with his, and I buried my nose his palm, chasing his scent. Gabriel grunted in disapproval, but Dean ignored him, placing a kiss on my forehead before returning to the room and shutting the door behind him.

 “Let’s go,” Meg said. 

I shook my head, returning my cup to its original position and leaning in.  I needed to hear this, finally finding that being forced into ignorance wasn’t something I found tolerable any longer. Michael was married to Crowley’s sister, and Gabriel was giving Dean Information.  I may not have been the most informed individual, but even I knew something important was happening.  I also knew that were I to ask, my questions would be met with a series of “you wouldn’t understand, it’s not something you need to worry yourself about, best go back to your embroidery.”  I refused to have my life doled out to me by well meaning idiots.

In Gabriel’s words: _Screw That_.  

Meg tried to get me to leave again, tugging at my sleeve. I jerked my arm away. “No!” I mouthed at her. She rolled her eyes and leaned in with her cup.

“I better not get in trouble,” she whispered.

_“You had no right!”_ Gabriel’s growled, almost deep enough to sound like an alpha.  I almost sorted in amusement at the attempt. I’d heard Dean’s Alpha Voice; I doubted I would even find Michaels intimidating any longer.

_“It’s not like you’re thinking, Gabe. Cas and me –“_

_“I know what you and Castiel did. No, no, I know what you did.”_ I could image Gabriel up in Dean’s face, standing on his toes, with a finger poking him in the chest. My brother had little in the way of self preservation.  _“You took advantage of my little brother.  You promised to protect him, and somehow, to you, that means bend him over and plow him like it’s spring time.”_

I blinked in confused. “What?” I mouthed to Meg.

She made a strange gesture with her free hand, and I shook my head, not understanding.  She rolled her eyes, and began making lude gestures with her hips.

Oh. _Oh_. It was still a ridiculous metaphor, even if I did understand it.

_“Gabe—“_

_“When I came to you and asked you help me keep him safe, to protect him from marrying that toad, you said… you promised you would take care of him, and that you would treat him well.”_

I stepped back from the door, staring at the patterned wood as if it could take back the reality of what I had just heard. Everything began to fall into place, all my questions answering themselves when I didn’t even know I had asked them.  I couldn’t put a finger on what I was feeling. It was new and hot, making my body tremble with the force it. Swallowing back my tears I stepped forward once more, determined to see this through to the end.

Meg reached out and took my free hand in hers. We were in this together.

_“He doesn’t understand Dean-o, there’s no way he can. He’s not like the omegas in the Pack Lands. He’s not strong like them, or smart like they are.”_

Dean snorted, _“You really underestimate your brother.”_

“ _You think this is funny? He can’t ever go home now, Dean. He’s spoilt_.”

_“Don’t even act like he was going to go back to Milton. You knew that the second you decided to include him in your defection. He’s tainted by association.”_

_“Damnit.” He sounded almost resigned, “I just … He had a part to play, and I couldn’t stand to see him not have a choice in it.”_

What had been simmering under the surface boiled over; it was like all the years spent playing stupid and simpering, being kept ignorant and caged, had finally cracked me.  I shoved the door open, throwing my cup at Gabriel.

“A Choice!  A Choice! You want me to have a choice?”  I was up in his face, on my toes, my finger poking him in the chest. He took a step back. “Did you give me a choice when you had me kidnapped by our _enemies?_ Did you give me a choice when you decided I needed to be rescued from marrying Crowley? Did you give me a choice when you abandoned me in a strange country, surrounded by strange alphas? How dare you say you wanted me to have a choice!”

“Cas—“

I whipped around, glaring at Dean. Whatever he saw in my face stopped him cold. “You get to say nothing.  You knew all along that Michael wasn’t going to come for me.” I laughed, realizing my own foolishness. “I should have known. I can’t believe I trusted a _wolf_. ”

My anger had mellowed into a sorrowful ache as I turned back to Gabriel. “You’re a traitor. Not just to your king and country, but to me. How could you Gabriel?  You speak of choice, but have robbed me so completely of it.”

“What would you have chosen, Castiel,” Gabriel asked, “if I had given you the choice of fleeing to Winchester, of being free, would you still have chosen to marry Crowley?”

“Yes,” it was an easy answer. “Undoubtedly, I would have said yes.”

“Of course you would have,” he rested his hands on my shoulders, his voice almost patronizing as he spoke, “because you don’t know enough to make any other choice.”

I jerked out of his hold. “Because no one allows me to have the information necessary, so I am forced to make decisions based on half truths and speculation.  And now? Now I have _nothing_! I have no home. I have no alpha. I have no choices left, and that is on you, Gabriel! That is all on you.”

He leaned into my space yelling in my face. “I didn’t make you spread your legs for your enemy.” I could tell the words were meant to hurt, but the insult fell flat.

“What choice did I have? I have no value beyond my body, is it any wonder that when everything was taken from me I became a whore?”

 “You’re not a whore,” Dean interjected.

“Yes I am.”

“You’re not,” Dean growled.

 I looked at him over my shoulder, “What else would you call me, Alpha?” I kept my voice even, desperately holding onto my nerve. “I serve no other purpose than to be mounted for your pleasure and my sustainment. Is that not the definition of a whore?”

They stared at me; Gabriel in shock and Dean in, what could only be described as devastation.  It had been a direct hit, and I knew it.  He swallowed loudly, a tear escaping his wet eyes.  The brief gratification I had felt at the cut now left me cold. I reached up to wipe the tear away, but he grabbed my wrist before I could make contact.

“Don’t Cas … just, just don’t.” He dropped my arm and walked from the room, saying nothing else.

“Damn, little brother,” Gabriel spoke quietly, “that was cold hearted.”

Groaning at the idiocy of allowing my own temper to get the best of me, I took chase after the alpha. Catching up to him quickly enough, I called after him, but he refused to slow.

“Dean, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

“I need to not be near you right now, Cas.”  He quickened his pace, and I was struggling to keep up.

“Dean, please,” I grabbed his arm, desperate for him to look at me. He shoved me away and I lost my balance, stumbling over my own feet, connecting with the rough stones of the hall. White pain flared through my face and I fell to the floor with a grunt.

 “Cas, I’m – son of a bitch!” Between one blurry blink and he next Dean had shifted from his human form, to the golden wolf that I had first seen at Grace’s grave. He shimmied out of the loose clothing, bundled around him on the floor and took off down the hall; far too fast for me catch up to, even if I could have followed.

I pulled myself up and began to stumble down the hall, uncertain at first of where I was headed, though I knew I did not wish to be alone. Still furious with Gabriel, I had no desire to be in his presence, and I had no idea where Meg and vanished to. Her loyalty, it seemed, extending only so far as her own well being. I tried to muster anger towards her as well, but I had met my quota for the day, and found instead that I couldn’t blame her survival instincts.

Deciding on my course, I made my way to Benny’s chambers, where I rested myself against his door to wait for him to return. Would that I truly could have rested, but my mind spun with new information and the throbbing of a migraine. Closing my eyes to dull the ache, I fell into unconsciousness.  

“Well you got a nasty mark there, don’t ya, chère?” Benny brought me back to awareness lifting me into his arms.

Snuffling into his chest, I mumbled, “My own fault.”

Benny set me down in deep cushioned chair, the likes of which I would not have expected from an alpha. Although I shouldn’t have been surprised, Michael had very plush furniture, but then Michael had also been remarkably… not like the alphas in the pack lands. 

“Here, let me look.” He tilted my face to the size and pressed against the injury. I hissed at the pain. “You gonna tell me what happened.”

“I forgot for a moment that omegas are not meant to speak back to alphas, and then I wasn’t smart enough to walk away when Dean told me to.”

“Dean did this?”

“It was an accident.” Benny poured water into his the basin and began working to rub the crusted blood off my face. I tried to fight off the tears that burned behind my eyelids, but failed, letting out a sob.

“What am I going to do,” I cried, resting my uninjured cheek on Benny’s shoulder. “I don’t understand any of this. Gabriel’s right, I’m not smart and strong like the omega’s here. I wasn’t meant for this, and I had no say in it. I just want to go home, Benny.  I want my sister back, I want my brothers back.  I want to stop hurting for a child I never had. I want to go home, and I can’t, I can’t ever go home again. And it’s not fair.”

Benny pulled me into his lap, wrapped his arms around me and began rocking me. I was a blubbering mess, sobbing out two months worth anger and pain and fear, and while I did, Benny held me. Rubbing an expansive hand over my back, he comforted me in a way I never thought to feel again.

“Shhhh. You’re right, it ain’t fair. But I gotcha. I always gotcha, ‘kay?” I nodded into his neck. Benny pulled my face away and wiped my tears away with his fingers. “And don’t let nobody tell ya you ain’t as good as the omega’s here. Sam says you’re smarter than him, and Sam thinks he’s pretty damn smart.”

I snorted in amusement. It was true, almost no one was as smart as Sam thought he was.

“I’m sorry I avoided you.”

He hummed in acknowledgement, and then I leaned in, letting him bring me back into his hold. He pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. “I would have been so good to you,” he whispered against my hair.

“I know,” I whispered back.


End file.
